


Our Darkest Hour

by galactic-pirates (stillsearching47)



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blink and You'll Miss It Background Crossover, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn Reconciliation, fills in some blanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillsearching47/pseuds/galactic-pirates
Summary: The blood, it always came back down to the blood.It is what had started it all, and what had changed everything, and now it is what had brought them all back together after so many decades.An infection, created by the evil Cabal, is sweeping through the abnormal community. Doctor Helen Magnus theorises that a cure/vaccine can be made from the source blood that gave The Five their abilities. James Watson and John Druitt join Helen at the Sanctuary but then Nikola Tesla arrives. He confesses that they aren't going to find the source blood in the ruined city of Bhalasaam ... because he's already retrieved it. The problem is he doesn't have it anymore. Where is it? Praxis.
Relationships: Montague John Druitt/Helen Magnus/James Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for NaNo 2020. It's complete and I'm planning on posting a chapter a couple of times a week until we reach The End. When I wrote this I hadn't watched past episode 3x15 but it's a ten year old show so I'm not completely spoiler free. I had fun with the origins of Praxis which season 4 might render wholly inaccurate but hey canon-divergence. Anyway, this mostly (as the summary suggests) diverges from the season 1 finale. I had a lot of fun writing this and so I figured I'd share. Enjoy! :)

The blood, it always came back down to the blood.

It is what had started it all, and what had changed everything, and now it is what had brought them all back together after so many decades. The architecture of her office wasn’t that dissimilar to her London home: the heavy wooden desk she was leaning against, the books lining the wall, the knick-knacks above the fireplace and of course the two men currently debating in front of her, James Watson and John Druitt. If she ignored the security monitors in the corner, the presence of Will Zimmerman and John’s more modern leather jacket, then the years almost faded away. Helen Magnus minutely shook her head. Those years were gone, had been gone since before the turn of the last century well over a hundred years ago.

“Which is a bit of a problem if, in fact, I have killed Tesla.” John’s lips quirked in amusement and despite herself Helen rolled her eyes.

She didn’t take John’s murderous tendencies lightly by any means, and it was concerning that Nikola had failed to respond to their messages, but she didn’t believe for one minute that John had actually killed him. Helen had put three bullets in Nikola herself in Rome and all Nikola had said was ‘ouch’. A fist through his gut would take longer to heal but was not insurmountable given his power.

A flash on the monitor caught her attention. “Fortunately it would seem not, John.” Helen nodded to the monitor and the three men followed her gaze to see Nikola cheekily waving at the security camera in front of the sanctuary.

Helen moved over to the computer and hit a few keys, opening the front gate for Nikola to enter. “Let our guest in Will.”

James cleared his throat. “Well that makes four of the five but unless you can raise the dead Nigel won’t be joining us.”

“Nigel can’t, no,” Helen agreed. “But before he died Nigel sent me a letter saying that his legacy had passed on.”

A flicker of something crossed James’ face and Helen felt an uncomfortable twinge of guilt that she hadn’t passed that piece of information on. She wasn’t sure she’d ever made herself think about it enough to even rationalise why not. The simple truth is James was right, they barely talked and when they did it was on sanctuary business. She hadn’t gone to Nigel’s funeral, precisely because she’d known James was going. Maybe she’d told herself that if Nigel wrote to her, that he probably wrote to James as well, but he obviously hadn’t. Either way she’d kept the secret that Nigel’s power had outlived him for over forty years and, from some perspectives, that could be felt as a betrayal.

“James-” Helen breathed but the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor aborted whatever she might have said, which was a relief because Helen didn’t actually know what she would have said.

“Miss me?” Nikola grinned, striding into the room with his usual majesty, Will trailing behind him. “Nice trick Johnny but not good enough.”

John growled low in his throat. “I know you are hard to kill but I’m sure I could find a way.”

“Yes, yes.” Nikola waved his hand airily. “But good luck getting the blood without me.”

“Nice of you to finally respond to our communiques,” James said drily. “You couldn’t have let us know you were coming?”

“What and spoil the surprise,” Nikola quipped, his eyes sparkling.

With a start Helen realised that her thoughts had come full circle again. World War Two had still been raging the last time John and James had been in the same room, and for James the same was true for the last time he’d seen Nikola. Will’s eyes were wide as his gaze ping-ponged between the three older men, the three legends: Sherlock Holmes, Jack the Ripper and genius inventor Nikola Tesla as the world would know them.

“We’ll need to locate Nigel’s descendant,” James said, pausing to cough, covering his mouth with his hand. “Then the five of us can go to Bhalasaam and retrieve the blood.”

“Yes … about that.” Nikola laughed faintly.

Helen’s eyes narrowed, easily picking up the hint of guilt in Nikola’s voice. She’d heard it in Rome too, the edge to his words which said that he knew he’d done something that wasn’t going to be popular.

“Nikola,” Helen said with a warning tone. “What have you done?”

“As charming as I’m sure Nigel’s son or daughter is, we don’t need them. I’m afraid that the blood isn’t where dear old daddy left it,” Nikola admitted. A grin spread across his face as he shrugged. “What can I say, it didn’t require all five when one of us is a genius.”

“You retrieved the blood on your own?” Helen snapped. “Of all the foolish … no no wait, when I saw you in Rome you were using your own blood to raise those monstrosities. If you had access to the source blood-”

“Ah well,” Nikola interrupted, grimacing. “Funny story-”

“You lost it,” James finished, minutely shaking his head.

Helen’s heart twisted seeing James and John share an amused glance, reflex even after all this time. Nothing about this situation was amusing but this was pure Nikola. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. Typical Nikola or not they now had to deal with it. She hadn’t been looking forward to the trip to Bhalasaam, her father had been clear that the protections he’d put in place were formidable, but she at least knew her father and how he thought. She had no idea what kind of situation Nikola had got them into.

“Where is the blood Nikola?” Helen asked.

With feigned casualness Nikola strolled round the couch and over to the bookshelves. His fingers traced the spine of a couple, pacing lightly back and forth, and Helen tensed. She knew Nikola didn’t like to admit fault, and he liked to admit failure even less, but the longer he hesitated the worse she thought the confession was likely to be. Seriously what had he got them into?

“Oh spit it out man,” John demanded.

With a characteristic quick move Nikola turned on his heel. “Fine.” He gestured dismissively with his hand. “It was a couple of years after my greatly exaggerated death in 43. The war was just over and I was wandering the world.”

“Get to the point Tesla.” James sighed.

Nikola pursed his lips. “What’s the matter my dear James, losing your patience as you age? Oh very well, if you insist, you’ll find the blood in Praxis.”

“Praxis, where’s that?” Will asked.

“You must be the protégé. Do be silent, your ignorance is showing. Care to enlighten the boy Helen?” Nikola gestured with his hand, inviting her to speak but Helen shrugged. Nikola gave a bark of laughter. “Oh I was not expecting that. Really, I’m stunned. You have no idea?”

“Apparently not,” John said with obvious exasperation.

“Your father didn’t tell you?” Nikola checked, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Odd.”

“You’ve seen my father?” Helen shook her head, that wasn’t important right now.

James sighed, clearly coming to the same conclusion as he sank into the armchair. Nikola had a story to tell and they needed to listen. She leant back against her desk and Will moved over to stand by the fire, a wise move as it made him no longer standing in between John and Nikola. There was no way John would sit as long as Nikola didn’t, he would likely pace by the doorway for as long as this took.

“Just start from the beginning Nikola. You were wandering the world?” Helen prompted.

“Yes.” Nikola nodded. “I’d heard rumours, whispers of a city hidden beneath the earth, I have to be honest I thought it was going to be a city of my ancestors, something they’d left behind that hopefully wasn’t in ruins like Bhalasaam. Oh yes Bhalasaam is nothing but rubble these days, the labyrinth underneath is intact but if any secrets remain there, well they are certainly hidden far better than your father hid the blood. Do you want to know what protections your father had put in place? There was something for each of us: a tunnel rigged with a massive geomagnetic current for me, a room that could only be crossed by someone who left no shadow for Nigel and a logic puzzle for you James. You had to pick a door and have Johnny teleport behind it. Yours Helen was a retina scan and then a question, which I presume was some kind of personal reference, but then I guess he knew you best.”

“My father said the protections were formidable. They were supposed to be designed to ensure it would take all five of us,” Helen pointed out.

Obviously Nikola could have completed his own challenge, and he was certainly intelligent enough to have solved James’ logic problem given time. However, she was at a loss to explain what he used instead of John’s teleportation, or Nigel’s invisibility, or even how he gained access to her challenge, let alone found the answer given his speculation of a personal reference. He probably wanted them to ask so he could preen some more. As curious as she was, she didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction.

“Forget Bhalasaam. You need to tell us about Praxis,” Helen prompted before Nikola could elaborate further.

“Ah Praxis.” Nikola sighed. “Not a city of vampires, more a city against vampires. Their protections are formidable. I forced my way through a barrier at the entrance only to wake up in a holding cell, in a considerable amount of pain and completely unable to transform. For a short time I feared they’d somehow de-vamped me.”

"So had they? Stripped you of being a vampire?" Will asked, from his spot leaning against the fireplace by the wall.

Nikola raised an eyebrow in her direction, a pleased look crossing his face. Helen bristled, she was the leader of the sanctuary network and she didn’t owe a report to everyone she worked with. Nikola could think what he liked about why she’d kept the events of Rome quiet, she hadn’t done it for him, not really. She just hadn’t thought it worth causing panic over something that was already over, with her refusal to help him perfect the experiment she knew Nikola would abandon it. Mindless drones might have their uses but being, in his words, dumb as rocks wasn’t the image he’d want of his great race.

Pointedly, she didn’t look in James’ direction as Nikola’s most recent foray into world domination probably was something she should have at least disclosed to the heads of the other houses. She winced, suddenly realising that she had mentioned the events of Rome, more specifically the monstrosities Nikola had raised, when she’d started shouting at him about the source blood. James had no doubt worked it all out by now, his deductive mind was both a blessing and a curse in that respect.

Helen shook her head at Will. "If they did, it was only temporary."

"Of course I could give you a personal demonstration if you'd like?" Nikola offered with a wicked grin.

“Nikola,” Helen chided him lightly.

Nikola gave a long-suffering sigh. “No minion, they had not stripped me of being a vampire. They just had technology that prevented transformations.”

“And the pain?” John smirked, blessedly stopping pacing for a moment.

“Temporary, an unintended consequence of having forced my way through the barrier.” Nikola said with irritation. “Now can I continue?”

John sighed. “If you must.”

“Now while their initial welcome left a lot to be desired, the head of their security, Captain Xanatos, got me a meeting with the member of their council. I explained who I was, and all about my misunderstood genius which had forced me to fake my own death-”

Helen met James’ eyes, seeing the same mixture of fond amusement and exasperation which she felt. She heard John snort. ‘Misunderstood genius’, only Nikola would consider his insane death ray world peace scheme in that light.

“Councilman Allard was sympathetic, enough to overlook the fact that I’m a vampire which historically was a race banned from Praxis. He permitted me full access to the city,” Nikola continued mulishly. “I was the first vampire to ever see Praxis, though apparently not for lack of trying. The barrier I’d forced myself through was specifically designed for vampires. Although I suspect it would probably affect anyone who had taken the source.”

“Nikola you still haven’t explained anything about this city,” James pointed out, his hands steepled in front of him. His gaze had been fixed on Nikola since he had started his story and, not for the first time, Helen wondered what he was seeing with his brilliant mind. “I understand the need for context but as Praxis wasn’t a seat of ancient vampires, what is it?”

"You always wondered, Helen, how abnormals evolved. Well I found those answers. Praxis was a city built by the last descendants of Atlantis. For thousands of years it functioned like a sanctuary.” Nikola smirked. “That’s why my ancestors tried for hundreds of years to gain access, they wanted the Atlantean legacy for themselves but in the end they failed. As much as ruling the surface can be deemed failure that is.”

A thousand questions flew to Helen’s tongue. Will’s eyes bugged out and she swiftly held up her hand to silence him. Nikola was grandstanding, he was stalling, and he better believe they would be revisiting this later - at length - but right now the epidemic sweeping through the abnormal community was their priority. If they didn’t get the blood, if they couldn’t synthesise an antidote/vaccine, then the world as they knew it would not survive. None of them would survive the chaos an abnormal/human war would bring.

“We don’t have time for this Nikola,” Helen warned. “Get to the part about the blood.”

“Very well.” Nikola pursed his lips. “Your father never liked me did he?”

“You’re an acquired taste,” Helen said simply, pointedly ignoring the soft huff of laughter that came from John’s direction. No, the elder Magnus had never been particularly impressed with Nikola’s narcissism, and his emergent vampirism had only deepened the distrust.

Nikola gave a gaelic shrug, as if to say can’t please everyone. “Well if your father didn’t like me before, I’m sure he definitely didn’t like me after what happened in Praxis. I was stunned when I saw him in ‘46, because he must have been a hundred and twenty, but you don’t seem surprised?”

“I saw him earlier this year,” Helen admitted. “He doesn’t appear to have aged a day and no I don’t know how that’s possible.”

“I do.” Nikola grinned again, making Helen roll her eyes. Nikola always had liked knowing things others didn’t. “Praxis has a longevity treatment, the average age there is two hundred and twenty. Anyway after I saw your father I made some enquiries. I soon learned from Lania, she was a lead researcher, her father had helped old Gregory secure some research a few decades earlier … in the Indian Himalayas.”

“The source blood,” James said bluntly.

“Indeed.” Nikola nodded, looking very pleased with himself. “They clearly didn’t know of it’s potential or they wouldn’t have hidden it away. Once I made them aware, it was soon retrieved.”

“As one of us is a genius it didn’t require all Five,” James reminded, quoting Nikola’s own words back to him. He gave Nikola a withering look. “You just had Praxis remove their own protections.”

“Only because I had the genius to ask the right questions,” Nikola said loftily, though Helen saw the slight scrunch of his face as he accepted James’ point.

Nikola had always liked to brag and a century without his friends to puncture his ego had done him no favours in that regard. While she wished the circumstances were better, or as James had said earlier ‘more agreeable’, it felt good the four of them being back together, even with the hole in the group where Nigel should have been. It also felt very wrong as she could never forget that despite John’s apparent good will of late he could never be trusted. It was an ache that never healed.

“I think we can all guess what happened next,” John taunted from his spot by the door. “You proved offensive so they kicked you out ... and they kept the blood.”

“Offensive moi?” Nikola put a hand to his chest in mock shock. He sobered and Helen felt a stab of anxiety, his next words confirming her suspicions, they still hadn’t got to the part that Nikola was hesitant to confess. “If only it were so simple Johnny.”

“What did my father say about you retrieving the blood?” Helen asked.

“Speaking of your father, Helen, forgive me for interrupting.” James held up his hand, he was leaning forward in the armchair now, causing Helen to smile slightly. He was enthused by the puzzle the only way James could be. “I thought your father had said he’d used technology the vampires had left behind to craft the challenges?”

“Highly individualized challenges to suit our varied and specific skillsets? Like invisibility or resistance to electricity.” Nikola tapped a finger against his lips. “Hmm let me think about that for a moment James.”

“Yes, yes, I suppose we were fools to believe it, but then until now we didn’t actually know what the challenges entailed.” James shook his head. “It still makes no sense. If Gregory was familiar enough with Praxis to request their help in ‘88 then why did he never mention the place to Helen?”

Nikola shrugged. “Why do you think I know? I never actually saw him again. I think he avoided me.”

John gave a soft laugh. “I really can’t imagine why.”

“Gentlemen,” Helen said sharply, as Nikola shot John a dirty look.

“To answer your question Helen, I don’t think your father knew that the blood was retrieved. Not until…” Nikola paused, his expressive fingers tapping against nothing as he tried to formulate his thoughts. “Well I’m quite sure he realised after … Anyway, the blood was retrieved and Lania and I started experimenting. It was not her usual area of expertise but she proved an adequate assistant. The pursuit of knowledge, pushing back the boundaries of science, it was everything we stood for as The Five.”

“How did it go wrong?” Will asked grimly, arms crossed as he gave Tesla a knowing dark look. It made Helen start, she’d almost forgotten he was there, lurking by the fire, and that it wasn’t just four of the Five.

Nikola paced, tapping his hands together before turning to face them once more. “You have to understand it was logical to begin the experiments by replicating what we’d done at Oxford. Naturally the serum required testing -”

“Something I’m guessing Lania volunteered for,” James interrupted. “What did she become?”

“You mean what latent genes did the source blood activate?” Nikola corrected. “Back at Oxford we didn’t have the context for genetics but it seems obvious now. Especially because I had both Lania and her brother take the serum. They developed the same powers. Just as my vampirism came from an ancestor, their gift was that of their ancestors - the Atlanteans. Much like my own it proved a varied gift: telepathy, telekinesis and advanced healing.”

“So how did it go wrong?” Helen pressed, and then the possibility occurred to her. “I suppose telekinesis could be quite destructive, especially in a city beneath the earth.”

“That wasn’t the problem,” Nikola said sharply. “Oh no, no, that came from Tavius, the High Counselor. In ‘46 Praxis claimed they didn’t have a leader, and instead ruled by a committee of thirty-seven elected councilors. As you can imagine nothing got done so they had an inner council of three, and Tavius was first among them.”

“Yes we understand Tavius was the leader,” James said impatiently. “What did he do?”

“He insisted on taking the serum himself.” Nikola scowled. “I decided to use point five of a milliliter of the blood, rather than the three milliliters we’d calculated were necessary. I also just mixed it with saline, rather than the precise measurements of laudanum, chloral hydrate, mannitol and ephedrine the two of you felt were necessary. I hoped it would fail, and keep the political fool from a power he didn’t deserve, but it didn’t.”

“Ok so this Tavius got powered up, so what?” Will asked.

Nikola threw up his hands, shooting Will an incredulous look. “If you have to ask then you have never dealt with a politician.” He sighed heavily, a dark look on his face. “I had no idea at first what Tavius would do. My immediate concern was only for the blood. As a politician once Tavius had the power for himself, I was certain his next move would either be to destroy the blood to ensure nobody else could gain power, or to order a number of his associates to be empowered. Regardless the blood would soon be lost to all potential further study. We had kept the blood in the lab, we moved it to-”

“So the conclusion to this very long-winded tale is that you didn’t want to share the blood, and hid it away somewhere in Praxis, and this Tavius threw you out for refusing to say where,” John interrupted. He snorted and shook his head.

Nikola set his jaw. “Oh and I’m sure you have such philanthropic designs on it yourself Johnny. The blood would certainly cure your health problems for quite some time.”

“Gentleman!” Helen exclaimed, for the second time. “That is quite enough. Nikola, I had presumed there was a reason for the elaborate story. Is it just context as Praxis was unknown to us? Or are you trying to say that there will be a problem retrieving the blood?”

Helen arched an eyebrow in challenge and was dismayed to see Nikola still looked hesitant. She glanced over at James and saw the same dark understanding in his eyes. Will sighed heavily by the fire and so she knew that he’d caught it as well. She looked to John and saw a resigned look flash over his face. They all knew.

“It will be a problem and.” Nikola held up his hand towards John. “Before you start John, it’s not because of me.” Nikola sighed. “Tavius gained the power of voice, he can get people under his thrall and that power immediately went to his head. Yes, we took steps to preserve the blood for study but Lania never had any concern about our safety, and despite knowing better I believed she was right. It was Praxis, they were so advanced, I really thought they were more evolved.”

“Dictatorship,” James said simply.

“Indeed.” Nikola scowled. “Overnight Praxis changed. Let me tell you for a people who claim to know little about, and care even less, about the surface they soon transformed into 1940’s Germany very quickly. Anyone who opposed Tavius was arrested-”

“How did you get out?” Helen interrupted. “You did oppose him by hiding the blood.”

“Yes but you are forgetting Lania’s brother, Captain Xanatos, head of security, he engineered the escape.” Nikola paused. “My point Helen, is that I left Praxis in 1946 and I never returned. The city was going down a dark path then and I honestly have no idea what we’ll find.”

“And my point Nikola is that we have no choice,” Helen pointed out. “We need the source blood to counter the Cabal’s virus.” She glanced round the room, meeting the eyes of each of the four men. “We have to be prepared to do whatever is necessary to get it.”

“Fate of the world,” John murmured.

James leaned forward in the chair and looked intently at Nikola. “How do we get there?”

Nikola winced. “I may know a way. Johnny, how do you feel about a trip to Italy?”


	2. Chapter 2

Helen nodded at John in thank you as he teleported back to the Sanctuary to get Nikola. After his power had first manifested they’d tested it and discovered that distance was no issue but what he transported with him was. With practice John had managed to take two people but he’d never attempted more, he’d said the resistance he felt suggested that would be unwise.

“Nice place,” James commented, tugging lightly on his cravat.

“Yes,” Helen agreed, she raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked around.

There was a nine hour time difference between the tiny Italian town of Sperlonga and Old City. It was late afternoon back home but mid-morning here and the sun was still climbing, just starting to peek over the terracotta tile roofs. She took a deep breath, this must be a coastal town as the salt tang on the air was unmistakable. The street was cobbled, the nearby buildings golden stone, with pale green shutters. It was absolutely idyllic. When she could get away from the Sanctuary, once a decade or so, she had a villa in Italy. It had been a few years since her last trip. Helen took another deep breath. Perhaps when this business with the Cabal was over she would take a few days.

With the characteristic grey and red swirl, John and Nikola appeared next to her. Nikola pulled on his jacket to straighten it and strode off down the street. James and John exchanged an amused glance as they fell into step beside her. Helen swallowed and increased her stride to move ahead. She’d opted to leave Will behind at the Sanctuary, as there was really no need to show up mob-handed.

“John,” James murmured.

Helen looked back at them and wished she hadn’t. Just by speaking his name John had moved closer, allowing James to put a hand on his shoulder for support. The cobbled ground was likely a bit uneven for his leg braces to compensate. She took a deep breath, ignoring the weight on her chest, and looked straight ahead to where Nikola was standing impatiently in front of one of the houses. It was three stories, likely had one room on each floor as was the style. He had his hands on his hips as he looked the building up and down. As she moved closer she saw him start to tap his foot, his hand came up to touch his face and then swung back to his side, where his fingers started rubbing together.

“Nervous Nikola?” Helen observed lightly.

“Who me?” Nikola said drily. “You know me better than that Helen.”

“Hmm,” Helen hummed non-committedly as they waited for James and John.

Then they were all standing in front of the brown painted wooden door. Nikola rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat before stepping forward, rapping his knuckles smartly against the wood. They waited and a few seconds later Helen heard footsteps on a tile floor and the door lock disengaged. The door swung open revealing a woman in her apparent thirties, with long dark hair and brown eyes.

Crack. Her hand collided with Nikola’s cheek and his head snapped round. John snickered as Nikola reached up to rub the offended cheek.

Nikola looked over at them. “I may have deserved that.”

“What are you doing here Nikola?” Lania demanded. “Who are they?”

“Lania this is Doctor Helen Magnus, Doctor James Watson and John Druitt.” Nikola pointed to each of them in turn. “You remember I told you-”

“The Five, yes,” Lania said impatiently. “But that doesn’t explain why you are here after sixty years.”

Helen stepped forward. “You haven’t heard about the disease spreading amongst the abnormal community in-”

“Yeah I heard.” Lania sighed heavily. “Also heard it was the Cabal, guess you better come in.”

Lania stepped back allowing them to file past her into the house. Helen blinked, after the bright sunshine outside, inside the house was quite dark until her eyes adjusted. The walls were painted white, what little of the walls she could see behind the several groaning bookshelves that is. There were two squishy sofas with red throws, one under the window and the other positioned in the middle of the room facing it. A table took up the rest of the space, the stairs were in the corner leading up and down.

John helped James over to sit down on the sofa in the center, taking up position standing beside him. Helen swiftly decided to take the available seat next to him, leaving Nikola standing awkwardly looking at Lania as she closed the door.

“How do you know about the Cabal?” James asked. “We didn’t until earlier this year.”

Nikola smirked and opened his mouth. Lania cut across him. “That’s likely by design, they wouldn’t have wanted to alert the Sanctuary network until they felt they were strong enough to challenge you.” Lania shot Nikola a dark look, an unfriendly smile on her face. “Plus unlike this one I don’t imagine you go looking for trouble.”

John huffed with soft laughter. Nikola opened his mouth and Lania arched an eyebrow. He subsided and slunk over to the empty sofa. He shrugged lightly as if to say ‘what can you do’ and Helen rolled her eyes. Considering her first meeting with Nikola after sixty years had involved the Cabal chasing him for creating vampire drone soldiers, she rather thought Lania had Nikola’s number. It wasn’t that he necessarily went looking for trouble, just that as he’d been known to say on occasion, he didn’t let common sense get in the way of scientific advancement.

“We need to get into Praxis,” Helen stated bluntly. “We need the source blood to synthesise an antidote and vaccine. What happened up by Mount Logan might just be the beginning.”

“What makes you think I can help with that?” Lania challenged. “I haven’t been back to Praxis since we were forced to flee.”

“Your brother-” John started.

“I haven’t heard from him since he helped get us out,” Lania interrupted harshly, a muscle in her jaw ticking. “I have no idea if he’s even still alive.” Suddenly it was as if the fight went out of her, she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “He insisted on staying, you know, he could have left with us but he thought Tavius had gone mad. Xan said he swore an oath, that he was a protector and it was his job to protect the city. Don’t!” Lania raised her hand, cutting off whatever Nikola was about to say. “I’m the only one who gets to call him a fool for it.”

“It has been sixty years,” Nikola pointed out.

James nodded. “Nikola’s right. That’s a long time for an authoritarian regime.”

“The only wait to find out is to go there, and if Tavius is still in charge then that would be an automatic death sentence.” Lania shook her head and then threw up her hands. “I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t get you into the city, do you not think I’ve tried? Oh I’ve looked for a hole in the perimeter but if there is one then I can’t find it. Blame my brother for being too damn good at his job.”

“Actually.” Nikola gestured, pointing with his thumb at John. “Johnny can bypass that. What we need is a location, an open area with no lodestone.”

“Or his molecules will scramble,” Lania finished. Her brow furrowed in thought, after a minute she nodded. “I may know a place but that’s not all you are going to need.”

She gave him a knowing look. Nikola nodded soberly and Helen frowned. She looked quizzically at Nikola.

Nikola met her eyes. “Only Lania’s hand will open the safe where we stored the blood.”

“Ah,” Helen breathed, nodding once. “Then we need you to come with us.”

“Not a problem,” Lania agreed swifty, almost before Helen had finished. “When do we leave?”

Helen looked back over at James, to see if he had an opinion on the matter. Time was very much of the essence after all. However, she could see fatigue tugging at the corner of his eyes, James probably barely knew what timezone he was in after flying over from London. It was early evening in Old City. The fate of the world might be in balance but it wouldn’t end if they waited a few hours.

“Come back with us to the Sanctuary now, we’ll leave first thing in the morning,” Helen decided.

“So if you have any useful toys now might be an idea to grab them.” Nikola smiled, rising smoothly to his feet. “I know you haven’t just been sitting here drinking wine and watching the waves.”

Lania glared at him before huffing and heading for the downstairs staircase. “Fine, I’ll be five minutes.”

Nikola grinned and called after her. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve been working on.” She flipped him off and he laughed. “She likes me really.”

“Oh yes I can see that,” John murmured. “Definitely your usual charm.” He coughed. “Or lack of.”

“Gentleman.” Helen sighed for the third time.

John reached over and grasped James’ hand firmly, helping him stand, and her heart twisted painfully once again. The cliché of time heals all wounds was the biggest lie around, as a hundred and twenty years hadn’t even scratched the surface. Christ, she missed Nigel. Refereeing between John and Nikola hadn’t felt like refereeing when Nigel was around to deliver a well-placed quip. The banter between the five of them had been seamless and always in good fun, there had never been any malice in it, not before … it wasn’t really Nigel’s absence that had changed things. It all came back to Whitechapel.

Helen rose to her feet and pointedly turned to gaze at the staircase, to expectantly wait for Lania’s imminent return. Then they could return to the Sanctuary and go their separate ways for the evening. She needed some space, she needed to stop thinking about it. The past was the past, and this was why she didn’t see or speak to James very often, as the past was best left there. Sixty years of peace, sixty years of trying to forget, and now with the fate of the world at stake, she had them bickering in her ear again. That’s probably why she kept cutting them off, not because of malice, not because she truly thought they’d go for one another, but because it was far too familiar.

Lania came back up the steps, a holdall slung over her back, her expression resolute. Helen felt a stab of sympathy, she wasn’t the only one being haunted by the past today. Fate of the world. The memories could wait.

*****

Ever since the blood Helen had found she hadn’t needed to sleep as much. That had been true for all five of them, though only Nikola tended to take it to extremes. James had suffered the most with it, as the boost the blood had given to his mind meant he craved the ‘off-switch’ of sleep just for some peace. Generally she didn’t mind, as there was always work to be done, but last night she empathised very much with James regarding the ‘off-switch’. She’d gone to bed, because being well-rested was a good idea, but she’d not slept and after an hour had got up. Being alone with her own mind hadn’t been a good idea.

She’d dressed in her ‘mission outfit’ so she didn’t have to change again this morning. Black jeans, black knee-high leather boots, black turtleneck and black leather jacket. The sanctuary was quiet in the middle of the night, most of the residents asleep aside from those on alternate sleep schedules. There was a leopt with a rash that she was keeping an eye on, and Greta, the goutiy, as Ashley had named her, was due to give birth in just a few weeks. Helen did the rounds, checking the habitat controls, and the food and water supplies. Fortunately nobody else was showing symptoms yet of the Cabal’s virus, her old friend was the only one who’d succumbed. Though she was sure that would change, and as horrifying as it was, the data on the incubation period would be useful.

Ashley found her in the lab at 6am, looking at samples of her old friends blood and mixing it with samples of hers. But James was right, they couldn’t get the antigen to spike high enough, not unless she injected herself but she wasn’t willing to go there just yet. Five minutes later Ashey left satisfied and Helen was wondering if she’d done the right thing. Sending Ashley alone, even with Henry as ‘backup’, into Cabal territory was very risky. She didn’t want to do it, Ashley was her daughter, but it wasn’t about them.

Even if today went perfectly and they got the source blood, and then synthesised the antidote, if the Cabal went ahead with their plans to spread the virus worldwide they wouldn’t be able to distribute it fast enough. The chaos would be horrendous, and the vaccine would then be like a bandaid on a bullet hole, as the damage would already have been done. Whether she liked it or not they needed Ashley to do what she did best, and hopefully pull off a miracle. The Cabal had to be stopped.

On her way to her office Helen reluctantly stopped off at the kitchen and grabbed some toast for breakfast. Her stomach was in knots and she really didn’t want to eat a thing but it was the sensible move. After she choked it down she headed for the armory, strapping a gun to her thigh and slipping extra ammunition into her jacket. She had told the others to be ready to leave no later than 7:30, and she was a little disappointed to see that her office was already occupied when she arrived.

“Been waiting long?” Helen asked Will, who was slumped in the chair in front of her desk.

Will shot to his feet. “I really think I should be going with you.”

“Somebody needs to look after the sanctuary Will.” Helen held up her hand, cutting off his protest. “Ashley and Henry have their own mission, and-”

“The big guy is in the infirmary,” Will finished. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s just no offence but Druitt is … unpredictable, Tesla doesn’t seem much better and Doctor Watson-”

“I can handle John, and you don’t need to worry about Nikola,” Helen assured him. “If nothing else Will, you can trust their self-interest. If the Cabal succeeds it’ll be the end of us all.”

Will sighed heavily again and nodded. “Well I guess I better go hand out breakfast. Take care of yourself Magnus.”

“Of course.” Helen nodded. Will left, via the door on the right, and she breathed out slowly, before moving behind her desk to scan the paperwork there, to see if there was anything that needed her imminent attention. “You can come in now,” she called, her eyes still on the papers.

Nikola slipped quietly into the office through the other door. He was still wearing the clothes he’d arrived in, the long navy jacket over the white shirt buttoned to the neck. “You know you might want to rethink that. Every mission should have an expendable element.”

Helen shot him an exasperated look. “Really Nikola?”

He shrugged, moving closer, running his hand up and down the wood of her desk. “I hate to say it but Doctor Expendable also has a point about James.”

Instinctively Helen looked up and caught his eye, she hated seeing the almost apologetic look, the trace of sympathy in his gaze.

“Don’t get me wrong he’s doing fantastic for a hundred and sixty year old mortal but…” Nikola trailed off meaningfully.

A lump formed in Helen’s throat. She swallowed. James and mortality wasn’t something she cared to consider. “If James says he’s up for this mission, I don’t doubt him.”

“Hmm,” Nikola hummed but thankfully didn’t argue.

Helen looked back down at the paperwork, absently grabbing a pen and scrawling her signature on something she hadn’t actually read. Anything to look busy and hopefully discourage Nikola from saying anything else. James wasn’t field-capable, they all knew it, and if they had to shoot their way in, or out of Praxis, then he would be a liability. However, there had never been any question about leaving him behind.

Perhaps it was because they were retrieving the blood, and it was supposed to be a task for The Five, maybe it was something else she didn’t care to consider. But Helen just felt deep in her bones that this was something they needed to do together, that they all had a part to play. James himself had never even questioned that he wouldn’t be going, and that quiet confidence just strengthened her sense that, if they left James behind, they would reach a point where they needed him.

“Good morning,” James greeted, as he limped into the office through the right hand door. He too was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, the tweed suit and cravat which mostly hid the machine which kept him alive. “Are we ready?”

“Are you?” Nikola arched an eyebrow.

James smiled as John ghosted up behind him. John had found a clean shirt from somewhere, he was now wearing a silvery-blue button-up under his long leather coat instead of the purple one he’d been wearing yesterday. They looked like an unlikely bunch for an invasion, the three men were hardly dressed for it, and she was the only one visibly armed. Although she was sure that John had several blades concealed about his person, and James probably had a gun underneath his jacket.

Helen’s eyes flickered to the clock, it was bang on 7.30am and they were one short, but then she heard the quick approaching stride. Lania appeared at the door on the left. She had opted for similar clothing to Helen; dark jeans, combat boots, and a white t-shirt underneath a black leather jacket, a small black rucksack slung over one shoulder.

“Do I get one of those?” Nikola smiled, gesturing to the gun on Lania’s hip. “I won’t be able to transform, remember.”

“You could take one from the armory,” Helen offered. Her eyes narrowed as she peered at Lania’s gun, it wasn’t one she recognised. “Your own design?”

“Which is why he wants it,” Lania confirmed.

Nikola nodded. “You know how I feel about guns Helen. As I told you in Rome, you are very sexy with a gun, but for me? So gauche, so unnecessary. Except unfortunately in Praxis. Now while I could walk in there with nothing but my good looks…”

“Oh please.” John looked up to the ceiling as if begging for mercy. James smiled.

Lania rolled her eyes and reached into the rucksack, producing an identical gun. “I’m going to want it back.” She held it out and Nikola took it, immediately bringing it up close to his face to examine it. “No taking it apart!”

Nikola pasted on an innocent look and lowered the gun back to his side. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Do you have the coordinates John?” Helen checked.

John nodded. “I do. If we’re all ready?”

“We are.” Helen stepped out from behind her desk, moving to stand by James.

She felt John’s hand clamp down on her shoulder and then the world spun away, a second later they were somewhere else. John let go and she absently noticed the swirl as he returned for Nikola and Lania. They were in a cavern, the ceiling was probably five or six stories above them, she could hear rushing water and twisted to see a waterfall. The ground was granite rock, same as the walls, and fortunately she couldn’t see any sign of life that had noticed their arrival. The fact that she could see at all was interesting, the cavern was very well-lit, almost as if the sun was in the sky which was impossible as they were several hundred feet below ground.

It was warmer than she’d expected considering this particular part of Hollow Earth was under Tibet, which was currently blanketed in several feet of snow. However, she guessed it made sense as the geothermal satellites revealed magma pockets a few thousand feet further down, which would radiate a lot of heat. Then another swirl as John returned with Lania and Nikola.

“There aren’t any sensors in this part,” Lania reassured them.

“There weren’t at least,” John said drily. “It has been sixty years.”

“Yes but there’s a species of flying abnormal that lives around here. I mean we’re relatively close to the city so Xan did try and extend the sensors but the bat-things kept setting them off. Gave up in the end,” Lania explained.

“Which is how you knew this would be a good spot.” James’ gaze swept over the cavern, his eyes missing nothing. After a moment he nodded. “Lead the way.”

Lania set off, heading for the tunnel carved into the rock just ahead. Helen’s hand ghosted over her gun but she didn’t draw it, they didn’t want to provoke trouble if they could avoid it. The sensors concerned her. The perimeter sensors were specifically designed to detect vampire blood which would be found in all five of them. They’d bypassed those and Lania had explained the city sensors functioned more like life-sign detectors in case of emergency. Entering the city shouldn’t raise any red flags but the problem was as John had said - it had been sixty years. Helen couldn’t shake her feeling of apprehension.

“John,” James murmured.

John moved over, allowing James to put his hand on his shoulder again. Helen ignored the ache in her heart and strode after Lania and Nikola. John could take the rearguard, she preferred to take the lead anyway. The tunnels were also well lit, the light radiating from pillars that were spaced throughout the system. There were a few loose stones underfoot but for the most part the dirt and rock was well-compacted, potentially well-travelled but she couldn’t hear anything other than their own quiet movements.

If their luck held they’d make it to the city before anyone saw them. Hollow Earth had a diverse culture of humans, and abnormals, who had made it their home. Many lived nomadic lives in the outlands but often came to Praxis to trade. Somebody would have to be wearing something very bizarre before anyone would take notice in New York, and Nikola had said it was the same in Praxis, which was good as their clothing was hardly likely to pass as Praxis fashion.

Up ahead Helen could see light spilling into the tunnel, as it opened up. Nikola and Lania were framed at the tunnel mouth. She joined them and her mouth fell open.

“Welcome to Praxis.” Nikola gestured at the city spread out in front of them.


	3. Chapter 3

The tunnel opened partway up the cavern wall, there was a sloped path down to the city streets, that first went one way and then the other to compensate for the drop. They were maybe three stories above the ground, so it wasn’t an aerial view by any stretch of the imagination but it still made for a good panorama. Helen shook her head in wonder. A hidden city in Hollow Earth, it was like something out of a book - in fact it was out of a book. Perhaps Praxis had inspired Jules Verne just as James had inspired Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes, and Nigel had inspired HG Wells tale of the Invisible Man.

Whatever the ambient light was it tinged the sky above the city orange. Although could you really call it sky when they were under the earth? The stone streets and brick buildings could have been from London, and the steel, glass and stone that spun up from those humble roots to form skyscrapers was reminiscent of New York. Thousands of glowing windows winked from the numerous floors.

Helen heard a whistling sound and then movement caught her eye. High above the city street was a circular train-like rail, but the clean lines of the ball cars could no more be compared to a locomotive than a Michaelangelo to a child’s finger painting. As she watched the ball car sped up until it was moving so fast it was a blur and swiftly vanished from sight.

“Magnetic, similar technology to high-speed rail,” Nikola commented. “I guess the surface had to catch up eventually.”

“Yes, but can a high-speed train work without the rails, even burrowing a new tunnel in an emergency?” Lania asked with feigned innocence, amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You surface-dwellers still have a long way to go.”

“Easy. For how much of your life have you lived on the surface again?” Nikola teased.

Lania turned to look at him and Helen nearly shivered at how cold her look was. She saw Nikola visibly swallow and she was sure he was grateful to hear the scrape of a shoe as John and James finally arrived behind them. James let out a low whistle on seeing the city and Helen couldn’t help but find herself nodding in agreement. From their vantage point Praxis wasn’t visually very different from the new construction opposite Old City. It was the knowledge that Praxis had been built ten thousand years ago, and that they were several hundred feet underground; that the entire atmosphere: the lighting, the heating, the air circulation, was all artificial which turned the otherwise mundane into the miraculous.

“It’s not as large as I thought it would be,” James said. “But then I suppose this isn’t the only settlement.”

“No, just the original,” Lania confirmed. “The one built by the ancestors.”

“How deep into the city do we need to go?” John asked, his eyes flickering over to James.

Lania’s eyes drifted down to eye James’ leg braces. “Not too far. You see that building there.” Lania pointed. “The circular one with the domed roof, that’s where we’re going.”

The building Lania indicated was still a good few city blocks away from the outskirts. Helen estimated it to be a couple of miles away from their current position. The ‘not far’ judgement was relative. Lania led the way again and Helen felt herself tense the further down the slope they got to the city. It took her a minute to work out what was bothering her. This was a city, supposed to be a bustling metropolis of trade and industry - and she couldn’t see any people.

“Lania is this normal?” Helen called.

“After sixty years who’s to say what’s normal,” John muttered darkly from behind her.

Helen rolled her eyes. John had a point but she wished he would stop making it. Yes, they were walking into the unknown, yes it had been sixty years and they had no idea what they would find. All of that was true and they all knew it, he really didn’t have to keep on saying it. She twisted, intending to tell him just that, but the words died in her throat as she saw him gently guiding James down the slope.

She’d barely seen John in Rome, he’d left soon after teleporting her away from Nikola and his vampire drones, but Ashley with prompting had recounted her conversation with him. John had told Ashley that Nikola had shocked him back to his senses, and indeed he did seem more stable, more like the John she had once loved than the cold, calculating lunatic who had thrown Ashley to that oversized lizard just to get at her blood. But then she also had to remember how good John had been at hiding the monster inside him. Whitechapel had gone on for months and they’d had no idea.

Seeing him interact with James was like taking a drink and not knowing if it was water or poison. Bittersweet in the most painful way possible. It was so right which is what made it so wrong. John didn’t have the right anymore, not after his betrayal, but even after a hundred and twenty years he still belonged by their side. They couldn’t trust him, seeing him with James like this was taunting, a mockery of what could have been if John hadn’t lost his mind and become a monster. He was home and he was hell and dear god it hurt. 

“I don’t like this,” Nikola complained as they finally entered Praxis city streets.

“Curfew perhaps?” James suggested. “Their day/night cycle might have shifted over the years.”

“The reason doesn’t matter,” John growled. “We’re sticking out like a sore thumb.”

The empty streets were eerie but Helen shrugged. “We’re here now.”

“Typical Helen, pushing forward without a parachute,” James noted crisply but there was more fondness than censure in his tone.

They kept walking, each street they turned down was as deserted as the last, until it wasn’t. Lania and Nikola stopping abruptly was Helen’s first indication that something was wrong. A few steps later and she saw it for herself, a half dozen uniformed soldiers standing in a line blocking the road, their weapons raised and aimed. Their clothing was actually remarkably similar in design to what security forces wore on the surface; black combat trousers, black boots and a tight black crew-neck t-shirt. The right sleeve had markings, silver dots, which she assumed indicated rank.

Helen threw up her hand in warning, the soldiers had seen Lania and Nikola, had undoubtedly seen her, but they might not have seen James and John who were a few steps behind. She twisted to urge them to leave, to run and hide, only to see another half dozen soldiers step out of the shadows. They were boxed in.

“A welcoming committee, how charming.” James smiled, moving his hand down from John’s shoulder to grip his forearm instead.

John snarled but thankfully heeded the warning. They had no cover, were caught in a crossfire and were facing unfamiliar weapons. Helen raised her hands in the universal gesture of surrender. Nikola might just say ouch when hit with bullets, but even he no doubt had his limits, and the rest of them were a little bit easier to kill.

“On your knees,” one of the soldiers shouted.

“That’s not really possible I’m afraid,” James said congenially.

Helen dropped to her knees, keeping her hands raised. Lania did the same, and then Nikola with some obvious reluctance. John locked eyes with James and Helen couldn’t breathe, as they conversed without words, then John growled, low and angry in his throat and finally knelt down on the unforgiving stone. The soldiers were well trained, they kept them covered, one soldier stepped forward with restraints at a time. Lania was cuffed first, they weren’t like traditional handcuffs, they were just separate circular bands. She presumed they were drawn together by magnetism, as there was no chain or bar connecting them.

A flicker of movement in a window caught Helen’s eye. It was a child peeking out from the curtain, she saw a larger shadow behind pull the child away and the curtain fell back down. The answer as to the empty streets was revealed. The soldiers had obviously cleared the area to allow for a clean ambush. The real question though was how they’d had time, the streets had been empty the moment they’d exited the tunnel. Helen’s face twisted as comprehension dawned. As John had pointed out several times - it had been sixty years - and therefore the ‘safe’ cavern where sensors couldn’t be placed, was no longer quite so safe.

Clearly something had changed, perhaps the bat abnormals had moved, and sensors had been added. Their sudden arrival out of nowhere, thanks to John’s teleportation, might have been what tripped the sensors, or perhaps it was their vampire blood. Either way security had been alerted and they were caught. They finished cuffing Nikola, removing his borrowed gun from where he’d stuffed it into his waistband. Then it was Helen’s turn, her hands were swiftly pulled behind her back, the metal bands snapping closed. Her gun was removed from the thigh holster, and they swiftly patted the rest of her down, finding the knife in her boot and her spare ammunition.

“I want to see my brother,” Lania demanded. “Captain Xanatos, he’s head of security.”

“The Captain has already been informed of your arrest,” one of the soldiers sneered.

He had four dots on his sleeve, the others mostly had three, so Helen guessed he was in charge of this capture squad. Lania bowed her head, stark relief on her face, and Helen felt a stab of sympathy. Imagine not knowing for sixty years whether your only family was alive or dead.

“He has no wish to see a traitor. You’re to be taken directly to judgement. Get them up!”

A soldier grabbed her upper arm, yanking her to her feet. John growled with impotent fury. “Leave him be. Don’t touch that!” he roared.

Heart in her throat Helen managed to turn her neck enough to see behind her, even as the soldier was dragging her away. They’d opened James’ shirt, revealing the machine strapped to his chest.

“He needs that to keep him alive,” Helen argued urgently. “He’s a hundred and sixty. I know down here that’s still middle age but on the surface it’s-”

“Keep walking!” the soldier pulling her along snapped.

“I’ll kill you!” John snarled, showing more teeth than Nikola in full transformation. He struggled between the two soldiers restraining him, until a third came up behind him and smashed his gun over his head. John sagged in their arms and they just continued to drag him forward.

They rounded the next corner and Helen lost sight of James. His expression was haunting, she’d have expected defiance or fear but all she saw was peace. She stumbled but regained her footing, she had no doubt they’d drag her all the way to ‘judgement’ on her face if she fell. When Nikola had said they’d left Praxis in the grip of a 1940’s Germany type of autocracy, she hadn’t expected they’d be very welcoming of unexpected visitors. Not unless something had changed for the better. Capture had always been a possibility, one she’d ignored in favour of hoping for the best, but it wasn’t like they’d had another option - they needed the source blood.

Two streets further into the city and she started to see people. On seeing the soldiers anybody that was in the street swiftly moved to the side. Everyone they passed kept their eyes firmly fixed on the floor. It was a bit like being the Pope, conversations died the second people caught sight of them, the hush falling over the street until they passed and she couldn’t hear it dramatically pick up afterwards either. The fear was palpable.

It was hard to be sure but it looked like they were being taken to a building in the center of the city. It was the tallest building, towering over it’s neighbours by several stories, which suggested it was important. Perhaps where the Praxis leadership assembled? When Nikola had entered the city in ‘45 he’d been granted an audience with a Council member, after he’d been thrown in a holding cell for a time. Maybe that was still procedure and they could plead their case. Although Helen wasn’t quite sure what they would say. They had already identified Lania and called her a traitor, so saying they were there to retrieve the source blood, Lania had already hidden away, probably wouldn’t be very popular.

Helen shivered as they entered the building. Outside the city clearly benefited from the same natural heating as the cavern they’d arrived in, it was a comfortable temperature. This building had air conditioning and the sudden change was bracing. The lobby looked much like the lobby of any office building worldwide, it was kind of fascinating actually how familiar Praxis architecture was. Given that this city had been built first, clearly for all that Praxians scorned the surface they’d managed to influence it somehow. They were dragged through the lobby to a set of unobtrusive stone stairs leading down.

“No, no, there has to be some mistake!” Lania shouted.

“Be quiet, you’ll get your chance to speak,” the lead soldier said stiffly.

Helen tried to feel hopeful given that promise but the temperature dropped even further as they went down three flights of stairs, deep into the basement of the building, and then dragged into a large open space. Dark grey stone, lit by sconces on the walls and on the pillars, but there were still deep dark shadows in all the corners. There were no seats, nothing on the walls, the only thing that broke up the space were the pillars holding the building up. It was grim.

The soldiers dragged them all so they were standing in a line. Finally she felt the harsh grip on her arm give way as the soldier stepped back, a moment later she felt the handcuffs relax as the magnetic grip holding them together ended. A second later there was a buzz, a snap, purple light burst into being above her head and her hands shot up, magnetically yanked by the cuffs. The purple light twisted around the cuffs and she was pulled off her feet to hang mid-air. Helen looked to her right, Nikola’s eyes were roving everywhere, clearly searching for a way out. In contrast Lania was still, her expression one of abject defeat. Helen looked to her left where John was starting to stir. One by one the soldiers filed out of the room leaving them alone.

“Lania please tell me this isn’t what I think it is?” Nikola asked the moment the door slammed shut.

“It is,” Lania confirmed quietly.

Helen looked over in time to see Nikola screw up his face in a moment of silent tantrum. He then caught her eye.

“Execution chamber. Apparently Praxis rush to judgement these days.”

“Where’s James?” John demanded hoarsely.

“They didn’t bring him with us,” Helen answered softly, making her heart clench.

If they removed the machine, if they didn’t believe it was life support and thought it was a bomb vest or some other weapon, then James would likely be dead before they could even drag him to the execution chamber. The stabbing pain in her chest grew at the thought, James and mortality was something she had never faced because like a child she’d always obstinately ignored it in the hope it would go away.

John said nothing and Helen wondered what he was thinking. She saw him flex, tugging at the restraints, but it wasn’t like it was rope that would weaken. After a moment he stopped fighting. With every passing moment it felt like the tension in the room grew. Helen wanted to say something, to break the silence, but she didn’t know what to say. Usually this would be the time for words of comfort but she had none to offer. They were on their own and they were in trouble.

When they’d proposed this plan James had said _‘same old Helen, just going to jump off this cliff and hope to sprout wings’_. It had been reckless coming here, just as it had been reckless sending Ashley and Henry alone against the Cabal, but she hadn’t heard anyone else propose an alternate plan. James had said a couple of times they were missing something but he hadn’t argued with this course of action. If he had truly thought it was a mistake, or they should approach it differently, then he would have said. And if the mind of the great James Watson couldn’t think of a better plan, then truly they had done the best they could.

The hinges of the metal door groaned as it opened capturing their attention. Helen’s head snapped towards the sound. Out of the gloom James stumbled forward. She sagged in the restraints, relief making her feel faint. Oh they might still die but at least they would do it together. As he drew closer she frowned, the last time she’d seen that expression on his face had been after she’d returned from Whitechapel and told him about John. He’d believed her immediately, no doubt he’d had his own suspicions which he’d been denying, but the expression of complete bewilderment had stuck with her. It was an expression which screamed that he just couldn’t comprehend what had happened, and for a man like James Watson who understood everything, it was a most unsettling sight.

“James?” John called roughly, as the soldier behind James shoved him in the back, urging him forward.

That was when Helen noticed James’ shirt, it was half unbuttoned. In this light it was hard to see but then he passed under a sconce and she saw pale pink flesh. They had removed his life support machine, but he was still alive? The incongruity probably meant that her face echoed James’ confusion. It shouldn’t be possible. She thanked God that it was but the scientist in her tried to make sense of it. James’ gift had never been longevity, even after what had happened with John she’d offered her own blood to James. It had been months before he’d accepted but it might as well have been saline she pushed into his veins for all the effect it had.

“Well, well, that is interesting,” Nikola drawled. Helen twisted and caught his eye, he shot her a cheeky grin. “I know the theatre is a bit much. We could have sat down comfortably, opened a bottle of wine…”

“Nikola?” Helen hissed.

“They’ve just saved his life, given James potentially another sixty years. Why would they do that just to execute him five minutes later hmm?” Nikola explained quietly, his expression turning more thoughtful.

The pounding of her heart in her ears made it hard to think. Helen almost felt like she had whiplash. Out of the corner of her eye she saw James get restrained, and pulled up to hang with the rest of them on the other side of John. Praxis had longevity treatments, that was what made their average age two-twenty, roughly three times what most people could expect. Nikola had a point, why would they give that to James just to kill him immediately afterwards? Although actually why would they give it to him at all? It wasn’t as if Praxis was given to charity.

Helen minutely shook her head. She could hear James in her head, saying that there was something they weren’t seeing. She needed to focus on what they did know. For instance, the leader of the capture squad had told Lania she would get a chance to speak. Perhaps all of this was simply an interrogation technique, a method designed to frighten them. She agreed with Nikola that the theatre was a bit much, but then Praxis never had liked uninvited guests.

Suddenly Helen was a lot more hopeful than she’d been just a minute earlier.

She tensed, the approaching sound of several men marching in lock-step, would never not conjure up memories of distant guns, of mud and blood and the sickly sweet scent of infection, faces twisted in death. Eight soldiers appeared, they split so four were stationed in a line facing one side, the other four opposite them. It was like they were presenting arms, like the Queen was coming to inspect the troops. Then he appeared, striding between them, he appeared about sixty though obviously on Praxis could be much older. Grey hair, blue eyes, manicured beard; dressed in a blood red shirt and pressed black trousers, his shoes shining even in the low light.

“Tavius, it’s been a while,” Nikola called out in greeting. “Still living your best Dictator life I see.”

“Doctor Nikola Tesla, Lania, it’s been so long I assumed you would never return.” Tavius smiled congenially, his words and tone friendly but there was a cold edge to it.

Helen had been dealing with abnormals for most of her life, she’d developed a sixth sense as to when they were dangerous, and every instinct she had said that Tavius belonged in the SHU. He was not to be underestimated.

“And you brought some friends.” Tavius clapped his hands together. “Lania if you wouldn’t mind handling the introductions.”

Lania cleared her throat. “Doctor Helen Magnus, John Druitt and Doctor James Watson.”

“The surviving members of The Five,” Tavius mused. “Oh yes Doctor Tesla, Lania’s reports were most thorough, she dutifully reported everything you told her. At least until her betrayal.” He paced back and forth in front of them. His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Well I must say I am honoured. What could possibly bring you to Praxis? That dreadful incident on the Yukon-Alaskan border perhaps? Lania.” He tutted and wagged his finger at her. “What were you thinking of stealing this time?”

“The surface has come a long way but our medical knowledge still far outstrips theirs,” Lania explained. “For thousands of years Praxis stood to protect humans and abnormals from each other. If the virus spreads on the surface … I thought it was our duty to help.”

Helen blinked in mute admiration. Everything Lania had said was true but also false. Excellent misdirection as it sounded plausible and didn’t mention the blood. Neither Lania or Nikola had known what Tavius had believed about the whereabouts of the blood. He might have thought it was still hidden within the city, as it was, or he might have thought they’d taken it with them when they escaped. Regardless, avoiding mentioning it was the best play they could make, it wouldn’t do to anger the despot.

Tavius waved a hand dismissively. “They can tear each other to pieces up there, what do we care?”

“Erm 1945,” Lania pointed out slowly, and with obvious exasperation. “And the weapons have only got larger and more destructive.”

“So much so they won’t use them,” Tavius retorted, his tone adopting the same ‘talking to an idiot’ exasperation as Lania’s. “I’m disappointed Lania. You return after all this time and your excuse is some ridiculous apocalyptic doomsday scenario. I’d think you were lying except I’m quite sure the Sanctuary is extremely worried about the virus, and you are accompanied by Helen Magnus.”

“I understand you know my father,” Helen said neutrally. “Nikola told me he was here.”

“Yes, Gregory came home.” Tavius laughed on seeing Helen’s slight frown of confusion. “Oh this is precious, even after all this time you have no idea. If Gregory hadn’t turned traitor I would have congratulated him on how well he kept the secret. My dear your father was born in Praxis. He left Hollow Earth to further his research into abnormals and only returned when his advanced age would have started to raise questions.”

For a brief second Helen felt betrayed. She had thought her father had brought her into his work, that he’d told her everything. Why had he kept the existence of Praxis, of Hollow Earth and a thousand year old abnormal sanctuary, from her? She pushed the feeling away, her father must have had his reasons, and perhaps Praxis’ disdain for the surface had been it. She might have founded the sanctuary network, but it had been her father who had first mooted it’s necessity. Perhaps to continue the work that Praxis had abandoned.

“We came for assistance, we thought that we had a mutual interest in ensuring that the world continues to ignore the existence of abnormals. If we were mistaken then we apologise, we’ll leave and find another way,” James offered reasonably.

“I think not,” Tavius said simply.

“So what are you going to do? Execute us?” John asked.

Tavius smiled. “I’m the leader of Praxis, my time is precious. I prefer to delegate such matters to my head of security. Good day.”

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room. The soldiers fell into formation behind him, marching out and then they were alone again.

“So your brother is going to flip the switch.” Nikola laughed. “I guess the old man has a sense of humour after all.”

“I thought you said they weren’t going to execute us?” Helen said, her mind desperately trying to think of an argument they had failed to make.

However, given that Tavius had spoken to them when they were already hanging in the gallows, it had probably been foolish to hope that anything they said would make a difference. It was hard to argue with someone who wasn’t interested in listening.

“Well I didn’t think they would,” Nikola retorted. “Not after they obviously saved James, but then I guess the threat of execution doesn’t work so well if you’re already the walking dead. Plus maybe they wanted the machine for study. Their longevity treatments get them an average of two-twenty but add on James’ machine? Could maybe take them to three hundred. Not a concern of mine obviously but it’s interesting nevertheless.”

The door banged again and a single set of solid footfalls marched towards them.

“Xan,” Lania breathed.

Captain Xanatos was dressed just like all the other soldiers, only he had five silver pips on his sleeve. Styled short brown hair, piercing blue eyes, he could have stepped off the cover of GQ magazine if not for his expression. It was harsh and unyielding. He didn’t look in Lania’s direction once. When he was before them he stood at attention, back ramrod straight.

“Trespassing in Praxis is a crime, the sentence is death. Ignorance of the law is no excuse. There are no exceptions,” Xanatos announced, his voice ringing out in the empty space.

“Xan, please. This isn’t you, we can fight this. Xan!” Lania begged.

“I know his voice is hypnotic but you are a telepath. If he’s in your head you have the power to get him out,” Nikola shouted but Captain Xanatos’ resolute expression remained.

Helen turned her head to look at John and James. She met James’ gaze and saw the defeat echoed in his eyes. If ignorance was no defense, and they didn’t care about their reasons, then nothing they could say would change what happened next. She had never thought it would end like this. Ashley, Henry, her old friend, even Will flashed through her mind. True she had lived longer than any human had a right to but there was so much left undone. Ashley was her daughter, and she couldn’t be more proud, but there was still so much she had to teach her. Henry was like a son. They were both off facing the Cabal, it was the fate of the world and she had failed.

“Nos must amitto vivo en,” James murmured.

“Helen,” John breathed, she would have expected rage but just saw agony etched on his features. “I-”

A flash, burning lanced through her, electricity was her final thought and then nothingness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a go at illustrating the flashback scene. The drawing can be found on my tumblr - https://galactic-pirates.tumblr.com/post/638241719246307328/james-chuckled-low-and-deep-in-his-chest-i-think

_~ Flashback ~  
_ _Oxford, Christmas, 1887_

Helen hummed happily to herself as she bustled around the front room a sprig of mistletoe in her hand. She couldn’t quite decide where to hang it. The doorway was obvious but that would require a ladder, not to mention a hammer and nail, and she’d already given the domestic staff enough fits today by being gracious enough to give them several days leave. Her father was away on one of his many research trips. Maud had especially been aghast at the thought of leaving Miss Helen alone in the house on Christmas.

A wicked grin crossed Helen’s face. Little did Maud know that was precisely why she wanted her to leave. She had no plans to spend this Christmas alone but while she didn’t give two hoots about society, it was wise not to court scandal if it could be avoided. She had opted for a burgundy dress today, appropriate for both the season and useful for it’s easy to undo laces.

“We’ll be going now Miss Helen,” Brook, the manservant, bobbed his head.

Helen’s hand shot behind her back, hiding the sprig of mistletoe. “Have a wonderful Christmas with your families. I’ll be fine Maud,” she said firmly, cutting off the protest before it could begin. “I’ll enjoy some quiet reading time.”

“Very good Miss,” Maud agreed reluctantly. “And Merry Christmas to you.”

They left, a moment later she heard the front door open and then firmly close. Helen laughed softly and wondered if she’d even get to the count of five. She started mentally counting anyway and sure enough she only got to four when there was a faint flash from the entrance hall. She heard footsteps down the hall and then John was framed in the doorway to the front room.

“Hello darling,” John breathed.

Grinning Helen held the mistletoe sprig over her head. John moved, a handful of steps later and she was in his arms, his hands strong around her waist, his lips pressed against hers. One hand slipped inside his dark jacket, the other roamed up his back. The kiss was relatively chaste and far too brief for her liking. The floor creaked and John took a step back, plucking the mistletoe sprig from her hand with a smirk.

“James.” Helen cupped his cheek, the side of his beard soft against her palm.

Helen wasn’t sure whether James closed the final step between them or she did, but it didn’t matter because a second later James’ lips were sliding against hers, and his hand was in her hair knocking out the pins and making her blonde curls tumble down her back. His tongue flickered against her lips and greedily she opened for him.

“My turn again old boy,” John murmured.

She turned, John cupped her neck and kissed her hungrily. She could feel James’ warmth behind her and giddily pulled away, snatching the mistletoe back from where John had forgotten it. She held it up. “Your turn.”

They leant forward, pressing her between them John and James kissed over her shoulder. Helen smiled so wide her cheeks ached. She eyed the settee under the window. They’d spent many a happy evening sat there trading kisses, she couldn’t think of many better ways to spend Christmas Eve.

“Drink?” Helen offered a few moments later when they reluctantly separated.

“Yes please,” James accepted.

“I’ll pour, you sit,” John urged.

Helen smiled in agreement and allowed James to lead her over to the settee. He put his arm around her and she snuggled in close, relishing his solid warmth. Her hand fell flat against his chest and instinctively inched up to pull at his cravat.

James chuckled low and deep in his chest. “I think she wants us to get comfortable John.”

“Well far be it for us to disappoint the lady.” John handed James his tumbler of brandy and placed his own, and one for Helen, on the side table next to him.

John tugged his cravat off and pocketed it, undoing the top three buttons of his shirt so it opened at the neck. Helen’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. He shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the arm of the settee, leaving him just in his soft linen white shirt as he’d foregone a waistcoat today. He took his seat next to her and Helen shifted closer. She heard the rustle of fabric behind her as James took the opportunity to shed his jacket. She pressed against John, saw his eyes darken, his gaze falling on her lips. Then she smirked and leaned back, having succeeded in reaching past him to grab her glass.

She took a deep draw of her brandy, she swirled it around her tongue before swallowing, enjoying the sweet citrus taste. With a warm smile John took the glass from her and placed it back on the table. His hand then curled around her side, tugging her close. She went willingly. He kissed her deeply and the brandy tasted even better on his tongue. Dazed, a minute later she pulled away, turning to kiss James. He too tasted like the brandy they were drinking. She had tried on occasion to quantify how her two lover’s kisses were different, she was a scientist after all, but she always just got swept up in the sensation. It was like being drunk on love.

As she pulled away this time, James’ lips chased hers only to be captured by John’s. They kissed in front of her for a moment and so it continued. She’d kiss John, she’d kiss James, they’d kiss each other. It was sweet ecstasy, a slow torment, until the hour grew late and they’d finally retire and enjoy each other thoroughly.

It was simply the perfect Christmas.

_~ End Flashback ~_

*****

Helen gasped, bolting upright, her eyes snapping open. For a moment black spots obscured her vision, she blinked rapidly and they cleared. Gingerly she moved, finding that her hands weren’t bound. She lifted them up to her eyes, the silver restraining bracelets were no longer snapped to her wrists. A beat later she realised how rapid her breathing was and took a measured breath, trying to slow it down, but the adrenaline was so not easily denied. Her head snapped back and forth as she looked either side of her

She was in a much smaller room but the walls were the same dark grey stone and it was just as empty; no windows, no decorations, just sconces on the middle of each wall. There was a metal door in one corner half-shrouded in shadow. Helen didn’t care about any of that though. She only felt like she could really breathe again when saw the others. James and John were both lying prone on the ground to her left, Nikola and Lania were to her right.

“Oh good you’re finally awake,” Nikola drawled, smoothly sitting up. “I swear I’ve been studying the inside of my eyelids for an hour.”

“Why aren’t we dead?” Helen asked hollowly. “I felt them kill us.”

“Kill you,” Nikola corrected with a cheeky grin. “Don’t you remember the time I fell asleep in Edison’s chair at full current?”

“How could we forget,” James groaned, raising a hand to rub at his forehead. “You wouldn’t shut up about it for a month.”

“The look on his face was priceless,” Nikola crowed.

“You still haven’t explained how we’re not dead,” Helen pressed shakily.

Her head was pounding, she pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. They had been in the execution chamber, she’d felt the electricity lance through her, and then she’d remembered something she’d tried very hard to forget. She must have been dreaming. Seeing James and John again, especially together, had opened a lot of old wounds. Clearly her subconscious was a sadist.

“They can raise the dead here,” Nikola said. Helen twisted and shot him a look of disbelief. He shrugged. “What, they can. Only the recent dead but they have this cube, it glows. Alright I’ll admit I didn’t believe it either until I saw it happen. Captain Xanatos was most displeased that I wasn’t dead with the rest of you, insisted I pretend lest I wreck his escape plans.”

“John,” James called.

Helen glanced over and saw James had now sat up, he’d scooted over to John’s side and was shaking his shoulder.

“John!” James said again, more urgently. His fingers moved to John’s neck, pressing against the skin and Helen saw the relief flash across his face when he felt a pulse.

“Johnny’s still out? Hmm, guess we now know who the weakest among us is,” Nikola quipped. Helen shot him a withering look and Nikola smirked. “Hey Lania wake up.” He poked her in the side. “Your brother’s escape plan, any ideas?”

“What makes you think I know,” Lania groaned. “Clearly my information is very out of date.”

The sound of metal screeching cut through the air and the door was pushed open. Captain Xanatos strode inside, a small holdall slung over one shoulder. He glanced back over his shoulder as he entered, a look of worry on his face. Helen’s stomach cramped, had their - and she couldn’t believe she was thinking this - _resurrection_ been discovered?

“We don’t have much time,” Xanatos said urgently. “Can you run?”

“Only if strictly necessary,” John said, slowly sitting up, a frown forming on his face.

James squeezed his shoulder, their eyes met for a moment. Helen looked away and when she glanced back James had moved, putting a foot of distance between them.

“The headache will pass in time. There is a treatment to help with that but it would be impossible to obtain without questions,” Xanatos told them. “Tavius is … occupied, I’ve ghosted the sensors for the next half an hour. You’re the teleporter right?” He looked directly at John. “If you return to the same cavern you entered, then you can leave yes?”

Helen shook her head. “We can’t leave.” A flicker of confusion crossed Xanatos’ face. “We came for the source blood, we’re not going without it.”

Xanatos let out a low whistle. “I can barely get you out, you want to take a side trip as well? You really don’t make it easy.”

“No, she never does,” John said fondly. Wincing he wearily got to his feet. “I don’t suppose I could have my blades back?” He looked over to Helen. “They did just kill us.”

“It didn’t do you much good before, but I brought your weapons.” Xanatos shrugged the bag off his shoulder, dropping it down to the floor.

He knelt down and unzipped it, reaching in he pulled out two blades which he handed to John. Nikola got to his feet and strolled over. Xanatos handed him both of Lania’s guns. Nikola nodded in acknowledgement and turned. He tucked one back in his waistband, and then with his free hand helped Lania to her feet, before handing her the other gun. Grimacing Helen stood up, accepting her gun, spare ammo and knife. Finally Xanatos handed James his gun and then they were all standing, all armed again, ready for attempt number two.

“Are we still in the council building?” Helen asked, as she holstered the gun.

“Yes, which is a good part of the problem,” Xanatos said bluntly. “I can only ghost the sensors for so long and if you’re still here when it expires, I can’t stop the alarms from going off. I just don’t see how you are going to have time-”

“We’ll make it,” Helen decided, wishing she was actually as confident as she sounded.

Xanatos looked doubtful but thankfully didn’t argue. “There’s a side exit, follow me.”

He turned on his heel and strode over to the door. Nikola rolled his shoulders and followed, wincing Lania filed after them. Helen looked over to James and John, especially James. They hadn’t just taken his life support, they’d taken his leg braces too. She didn’t care what they’d shot him up with, James had been dependent on those braces to help him walk for years, you didn’t overcome that kind of muscle atrophy instantly.

“I’m fine, feel better than I have in years,” James said reassuringly, having obviously read the concern on her face. To prove it he followed the others, not calling on John this time for a stabilising shoulder.

Helen shot John a glance. “I’ll watch the rear,” he promised.

She nodded in acknowledgement and headed after James into the maze of corridors on this level of the council building underbelly. It seems maintenance corridors were ubiquitous everywhere. Will would no doubt have called her crazy for trusting John to watch their backs. He’d expressed exactly that concern before they’d left. Her exact words had been that she could handle John, and that they could trust Nikola’s self-interest. She supposed in this scenario, deep in apparent enemy territory, John’s self-interest would be survival and therefore aligned with theirs. Really though, that wasn’t it. No matter how many times John proved he couldn’t be trusted, and no matter how much she knew she shouldn’t trust him, it was all too easy to turn to him in times of crisis and just _trust_.

Or perhaps, Helen thought, seeing Nikola waiting by the door at the end of the corridor, it was the blood. Maybe it had created a bond that wasn’t so easily broken. No matter how they tore each other apart, The Five were just magnetically drawn back together, over and over.

“Once more into the breach,” James muttered as they stepped outside under the orange glow faux sky.

They had emerged in what looked like an alley but she could hear people this time. It would be when they stopped hearing them that they’d know they had a problem.

“I shouldn’t be seen with you,” Xanatos said stiffly. “But I’ll be nearby. I’ll do whatever I can to ensure you make it out.”

“And you with us,” Lania urged. Xanatos stubbornly set his jaw and Lania blinked in disbelief. “You can’t seriously be planning on staying. Someone is bound to see us and then Tavius will know what you did. You can’t cover that up. Please Xan.”

Xanatos jerked his head towards one end of the alley. “Get going, you don’t have much time.”

He strode off in the opposite direction. Lania took one step after him, her hand coming up as if to grab him, as if to try and make him stay but she faltered. She didn’t call out after him, she didn’t plead with him again.

“He’ll never leave this city,” Lania breathed, blinking back a couple of stubborn tears. Smartly she turned on her heel and stalked off in the direction Xanatos had indicated.

For once Nikola didn’t have a smart quip. He just sighed and hurried after her. Helen wasn’t sure if they would draw more attention walking together as a group of five, or as a loose group that could be mistaken for individuals. Walking across the square in front of the council building was nerve-wracking. Helen could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, it was all too easy to picture somebody looking out of the window and spotting them. At any moment she expected a yell to stop them but it never came.

They made it across the square and back into the streets. Everyone was keeping their heads down, moving with purpose, and with some effort Helen did the same. Her curiosity about Praxis wasn’t worth drawing unwanted attention. Truthfully though what little she could see did remind her uncomfortably much of the war. They rounded another corner and she caught the scent of fresh bread. There was a child standing outside the bakery, perhaps five years old, and he stared unabashed at them. Helen couldn’t help but smile at him, until his mother hurried over and tugged him away, and her smile fell.

So much fear and it had been like this for sixty years?

The pervading feeling of wrongness was almost overwhelming. Sixty years in Praxis wasn’t a lifetime but it was still far too long. A couple of generations had grown up knowing only this and that saddened her more than words could describe. Her life's work had always been the sanctuary network but she hadn’t hesitated to do her bit in both wars. So many good people had fought and died to end this kind of regime. The fact that it could exist here, in a city that was supposedly more advanced, was horrifying and hopefully not a terrifying omen that those days could one day return.

Miraculously they made it to the building Lania had indicated, the circular one with the domed roof, without encountering any guards. Helen had to think that was because Xanatos had pulled the patrols, as she was sure that in a society like this there were usually guards within shouting distance of every city block. This building was constructed with paler stone, rather than the dark grey of the council building. It was quite striking and she imagined that this building too had been something important at some point. However, the scent of decay hit her the second they stepped through the doors. Damp and rotten, thoroughly unlived in and abandoned.

“What did this used to be?” James asked, as Lania pressed the button for the lift.

“Academics, my old mentor had an office here,” Lania explained distractedly, hammering the button again but nothing happened. She sighed. “They must have cut the power.”

“Oh great,” Nikola’s face screwed up in distaste. “How many flights of stairs?”

Lania grimaced. “Thirty-five.”

“Nikola you and Lania head up and get the blood. James and I will stay here and watch the entrance,” Helen ordered.

“What about Johnny?” Nikola whined. “Why do I have to-” Helen gave him a pointed look and he stopped. “Fine, fine,” he stomped off towards the stairs.

Lania stood at the foot of the stairs, peering upwards thoughtfully. She looked at Nikola and Helen was confused to see a teasing glint appear in her eyes.

“Do you trust me?” Lania asked him.

Nikola arched an eyebrow. “Why? Is that a requirement? I’m here, aren’t I.”

“Close enough.” Lania shrugged.

She closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around him. Nikola looked nonplussed. Helen’s lips twitched with amusement, for a man that was always ready with a flirty innuendo, he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Lania arched her neck, gazing upwards again and then their feet left the floor. Slowly they rose further, up in the gap between the flights of stairs.

“You’ve been practicing,” Nikola exclaimed delightedly. His words growing fainter as they disappeared. “I told you that you could fly, just like your brother, if you wanted but you insisted…”

“Well that beats climbing thirty-five flights,” John noted drily. “I’m guessing you’d like me to be the middleman?”

“Please,” Helen confirmed.

John headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Seventeen floors was still quite a distance for a shouted message, but it was still more likely to be heard than over thirty-five. Helen took a measured breath out. The lobby of this building was small, only taking up a fraction of the available space. The entrance door was at a right angle to the rest of the room. On the right there was a pillar, a few steps from the foot of the stairs, which James leant against. He’d taken the pistol from inside his jacket, holding it loosely against his leg, the pillar itself shielding him from view from the door.

From the marks on the floor it looked like there had been a reception desk opposite the door at some point. However, it was no longer there which meant there wasn’t any convenient cover. Instead Helen just opted to press her back against the left wall, a foot away from the edge. The only lighting came from the outside so they were cast in shadow, and in shadow it was movement that caught the eye so if they stayed still they’d likely go undetected. Or at least they would until the sensors came back online and their very blood betrayed them.

Helen glanced at her watch. By her reckoning it had taken at least fifteen minutes to traverse the city from the council chamber to here. It had taken at least that long to make the trek from the cavern to where they had been captured. She hoped that Xanatos’ estimate of half an hour on the sensors had been a pessimistic one because the numbers were not in their favour. She drew her own gun, holding it in both hands as was her custom, arms outstretched and pointed to the floor.

It wasn’t like before, if security spotted them they weren’t surrounded, they could fight back.

She marked time by counting breaths, resisting the temptation to keep looking at her watch. So long as she could still hear the quiet hum of people on the street outside they were ok. If they went silent that meant security had arrived. A ridiculous number of breaths later, and she didn’t think she was breathing particularly rapidly, the others had still yet to return. Helen huffed in exasperation and checked her watch, five minutes, it had been five minutes. What were they doing up there? Honestly if Nikola had got distracted she was going to murder him.

A muffled shout, a thump, Helen’s heart leapt into her throat. She saw James twist in the shadows and she took an aborted step forward. There was a clatter of feet on stairs and then John jumped down an entire flight, landing crouched on the floor.

“Trap,” John hissed. “Run!” More shouting, more running feet. John straightened, rolled his shoulders and drew his blades, taking a combat stance. “I said run!”

Helen hesitated and then moved to the door, she kept her eyes fixed on John for half a second longer than was sensible, just in time to see a security guard leap down and have his gun knocked out of his hand by a well-placed knife strike. If John had actually been aiming for the man’s wrist instead she didn’t want to know.

James’ hand slipped into hers, urging her along, and her head turned to the door, he pushed it open, the hand with the gun flat against the glass. The moment they were outside a soldier appeared. Helen didn’t hesitate and neither did James. Both of them raised their weapons and fired. The soldier collapsed and then they were running. He might not have been the enemy, and Helen hadn’t wanted to kill him, but lives were at stake and not just their own.

The streets were wide and rapidly emptying, not a lot of cover to be found. There were no cars, and the floating goods trolleys were useless due to the foot of empty space underneath them. Something hot whizzed past her ear. Helen glanced behind her, two more soldiers had appeared and they were firing. She paused and fired back causing them to dive to the ground.

She kept on running, taking the next corner and coming face to face with a soldier. He was young, completely emotionless. There was barely six feet between them. He raised his weapon, she raised hers, there’s no way either of them would miss. Bang. The soldiers head bloomed, blood splattering the street as the bullet went in one ear and out the other. Helen turned, James was leaning heavily against the wall bracketing the steps of the nearest house but his arm was steady and his aim true as ever.

“Helen, go,” James gasped.

Helen shook her head, her eyes scanned the street. There was an alley three houses up. She gestured for James to follow and jogged in that direction. They couldn’t leave, not without the blood and not without Nikola and John. Unsteadily James lurched after her, staggering down the street on shaky legs. She grabbed his arm, yanking him into the shadows of the alley with her and just in time, as two soldiers appeared at the end of the street, and then another two immediately behind them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've now watched Normandy so I know a bit of the backstory I developed in this for James and Helen isn't canon but ehhh this is canon-divergence so never mind haha. That's what I get for writing fic before I've seen the whole show.

“We can’t hide Helen, they can track our very blood,” James hissed into her ear.

As if James’ words had summoned it, one of the soldiers pulled what looked like a PDA out of a clip on his belt. He held it at arm's length, roaming back and forth and then inexorably towards their position. Mentally she counted bullets, if she fired a spread to get them to back-off they might make it to the next street, she’d reload there and then lay down more cover fire. That would leave her with only one clip and they were still a handful of streets from the city outskirts, and the path up the wall to the tunnel entrance to the cavern was horribly exposed.

There was a whoosh of air. Boots flew past her face, landing hard on the road just two feet in front of them. Xanatos straightened up.

“Sir,” the soldier with the scanner straightened to attention.

“The main scanners have gone down again, Lania must be in the system. Take your team and check the outpost in sector five,” Xantos barked. The soldier's eyes flickered to the scanner in his hand. “That’s an order lieutenant, or have you forgotten that the filter will pick up me as well.”

“No sir,” the lieutenant said hastily, replacing the scanner on his belt.

He gestured with his hand and his three men started to jog in the indicated direction. He fell in behind them and Helen let out a low breath of relief. Standing as close together as they were, it must not have been clear that there were three sensor hits, and not just one.

Xanatos turned to face them. His expression was unreadable. Helen opened her mouth to thank him when he raised his palm, a moment later she felt herself rise off the ground. Xanatos strode forward, deeper into the alley underneath where they’d been as she and James rose higher and higher. The initial feeling of weightlessness passed, it was like going up in a lift, there was a lurch but then you could feel the solid floor beneath your feet again.

There was just air underneath her feet but it felt like solid ground. Xanatos’ telekinesis making a platform of air. She looked back down and saw that he was flying up beneath them and then they broke the roofline, a slight shift of direction to the right and they were standing on the flat roof, a couple of dozen stories off the ground.

“Well that’s one way to get off the street,” James quipped but Helen could see the strain in the corners of his eyes.

“Can you fly us up to the tunnel entrance?” Helen asked.

Now they were on the roof she could easily see it, peeking through the gap between the other tall buildings. The tunnel looked tiny from here, but then so did all the people on the ground, scurrying around like ants. If they had to run there it was still a mile through hostile territory.

“Wait here,” Xanatos said curtly.

He strode over to the edge of the roof and dove off. Helen shook her head, he wasn’t the first abnormal she’d known who could fly, but it was still quite a sight to behold. James coughed and lowered himself down to the ground, leaning his back against an air vent. Helen crouched down next to him and he forced a smile.

“Don’t worry Helen. I’d thought this mission was one I wasn’t going to come back from. The suit had been failing for some time, it pretty much stopped working once we left the Sanctuary.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Helen sighed, feeling a surge of anger.

She’d pushed aside her own misgivings about James accompanying them because he’d been so confident, and if James thought that he could handle it then she wasn’t going to argue. She had been so certain that he wouldn't do anything to jeopardize the mission, that it hadn’t occurred to her that he’d be willing to sacrifice himself.

A sad smile crossed James’ face. “There was nothing you could have done, it was the inevitable I’m afraid.”

“But not here,” Helen murmured, her eyes narrowed.

James shrugged sheepishly. “I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind but I doubted that I would have the opportunity.”

Their conversation in the lab came back to her. She’d said her gift had been longevity but James’ had been much more profound, he’d countered asking her if she’d like to switch and she’d laughed it off as a joke. She should have listened more carefully, she should have realised what James couldn’t bring himself to say. He’d even obliquely brought up their estrangement, the closest they’d ever got to talking about it. She’d brushed him off, weakly saying _‘well, we're together now, aren't we?’_ to just avoid the issue.

“James,” Helen breathed.

His eyes met hers and the ocean of agony between them flared into life. To say she had loved him deeply would be to imply that she’d ever stopped. No, from the very first day she’d realised she’d fallen deeply in love with James Watson, he’d owned half her heart and over a century hadn’t changed that. The problem as always was John. They’d already been great friends but it had been John who had brought them together romantically, John who owned the other half of their hearts, and the ragged hole where he used to be had just been too much to bear. It wasn’t that James alone hadn’t been enough for her, it was that she couldn’t live with his pain and her own.

A thump, boots hitting the ground. Helen twisted, heart pounding, her gun snapping up, fixating on the heart of her target.

John raised his hands. “I come in peace.”

Helen lowered the gun to point at the ground. A moment later Nikola and Lania appeared. Lania looked pale, a trail of blood painting one side of her face, no visible injury but then Helen remembered that one of Lania’s powers was healing. Nikola’s coat had come unbuttoned, showing his white collarless shirt. The shirt had several small dark holes, probably from bullets, but he didn’t appear to be in any pain. For a change John appeared to be uninjured. His black leather coat hid many sins but she could usually spot the splashes of other people's blood, maybe it was the orange hue of the ambient lighting but she couldn’t see any.

“Tell me you got it,” Helen demanded.

Nikola grinned. “I thought you’d have learned never to doubt me by now.”

He reached into his coat and withdrew a familiar vial. Thanks to Nikola’s earlier experiments there was even less blood than she remembered, it filled barely an inch from the bottom, but it would be more than enough to research a cure.

“Now we just need to get out of here,” Helen said. Groaning softly James staggered to his feet. Helen fixed her eyes on Lania. “Lania-”

“You want a lift, I don’t think I can, I’ve never had that level of control,” Lania said apologetically.

“I would disagree with that. We just flew here,” Nikola pointed out.

“Yeah, and how many buildings did I hit on the way?” Lania arched an eyebrow. Nikola winced, his expression acknowledging the point. “You can take it.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” Nikola muttered under his breath.

“And there’s four of you,” Lania continued.

“And one of me,” Xanatos interjected.

A beat later there was a muffled explosion. Helen twisted just in time to catch the fireball fading in the distance. That was on the other side of the city, beyond the council building. A klaxon started to sound and then the faux orange sky wasn’t so empty as a couple of flying machines started to orbit the area of the fire. They weren’t helicopters, they weren’t planes, she wasn’t sure what they were.

Xanatos gave a crooked smile. “Distraction. Lania if you take Tesla, I’ll take his friends. It would be easier if you stood together.”

“And I’ll take that.” Helen reached over and plucked the vial of blood from Nikola’s hand, making him pout.

James gripped John’s shoulder as he had several times that day already. Helen moved to stand next to James. With a slight smile he offered her his arm, and she linked arms with him just as they had done dozens of times when walking together in the past. The number of times they’d strolled around the park, or around Oxford campus, it was incongruous to do it here like this.

“Good.” Xantos moved his hand, gesturing first drawing an invisible line and then raising it. When he lifted his hand their feet left the floor. “Lania.” He jerked his head in the direction of the tunnel.

Lania took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around Nikola again. They hovered, and then shot forward. Helen sucked in a breath but at the very last second they barrel-rolled, changing direction and avoided plowing directly into the next building.

Xanatos shook his head. “I would have thought after sixty years she’d have been better at that.”

He twitched his hand and they shot forwards. Helen gasped, her grip tightening on the vial of blood. There was no wind resistance, she had thought they would be like dogs with their head out of the car window, eyes watering, clothes flapping, but it was like they were enclosed in a bubble. She looked down, they were probably a hundred and fifty feet or so in the air, it was hard to judge. Her stomach lurched, she didn’t generally have a problem with heights but this was worse than the restaurant with the glass floor. There really was nothing but Xanatos’ mind between them and the ground. She could see people but it was impossible to tell from this distance whether they were soldiers or just citizens.

Helen looked forward again, the tunnel entrance was approaching rapidly. She saw Lania and Nikola reach the mouth of the tunnel, they hit the ground hard, skidding a few feet along the dirt making her doubly glad she’d confiscated the blood from Nikola’s clutches. Their own landing was seamless, one minute they were hovering in the air, the next their feet were back on the ground and she hadn’t felt a thing.

A shout cut through the air. Helen turned and growled in annoyance. Four soldiers were sprinting towards the path from the city outskirts.

“Time we weren’t here I think,” John said, gesturing for them to go on ahead of him.

Nikola got to his feet, brushing ineffectually at the dirt streaks on his coat, his nose wrinkled in distaste. “You owe me a new outfit Helen. Although.” He brightened as an idea occurred to him. “If this is you saying you prefer me au naturel we could definitely talk about that.”

Helen shot him an exasperated look as she dove into the tunnel ahead of everyone else. Her feet pounding in rhythm against the dirt, her breath was loud in her ears. The twists and turns slowed her down. More shots were fired, closer this time. Damn how had those soldiers climbed the path so fast?

“Go, I’ve got this!” Xanatos shouted, his words muffled by the distance.

“Hurry up Johnny,” Nikola urged, his voice a lot closer.

Helen didn’t turn to see but she was sure that he was right behind her. She wasn’t sure if his vampiric speed worked with the transformation suppressed but even if he was capable of passing her, she knew he wouldn’t. If she called him on it, he’d say something about enjoying the view, but really it’s because he was being a human, or rather vampire, shield. Maybe it was their recent brush with death but one of these days she should tell him that she appreciated it.

“Move your legs old man,” John growled.

Then Helen was in the cavern. She skidded to a stop, barely resisting the urge to double over, she took great big gulps of air and turned to see Nikola jog out of the tunnel. John was next, his arm round James. His eyes met hers and she nodded. John grabbed Nikola’s shoulder and transported the three of them away. Helen knew that he would have preferred to take her first but Nikola had been closer.

Lania emerged, her eyes wide and fearful. Then Helen saw Xanatos, both arms raised, hands outstretched in front of him. He was walking backwards and then Helen saw the air in front of him ripple. They were shooting, he was shielding.

The air a few feet away swirled and John was back. “Helen!” He moved towards her.

Helen shot him a warning look. “Lania.”

“Xan,” Lania called.

“I’m not leaving,” Xanatos said absently.

“Then I’m not either,” Lania said decisively. She set her jaw, a stubborn glint in her eyes. “I know you haven’t covered all of Hollow Earth in sensors, there has to be a resistance. This is my city too Xan so don’t argue.” She looked over at Helen and John. “Good luck with the Cabal.”

Helen opened her mouth, intending to thank her, to thank them both, but John’s hand clamped down on her shoulder and the world spun away. A moment later she was back in her office.

Nikola frowned. “Where’s-?”

“They stayed behind. It’s their city,” Helen said simply.

She looked at the vial of blood in her hand and then at the clock. It was late, they’d obviously lost most of the day to being dead. She took a few deep breaths. The sudden shift in location, and from fight to safety was jarring. Long experience told her that the adrenaline crash could be muted if she kept going full steam ahead. It wasn’t like they had time to do anything else anyway, they’d already lost the day, and they were running out of time.

Sanctuary staff were on the ground in the affected areas, trying to quarantine infected abnormals before they attacked humans, but it wasn’t like they had an abnormal register. They were more like firefighters, they could respond, but they couldn’t preempt and there was no telling what carnage had occurred while they’d been in Praxis.

“James, let's get this to the lab. Nikola, if you want to help…”

“As if you could do it without me,” Nikola scoffed.

Helen grabbed the radio off the desk. “Will, we’re back. Meet us in the lab, I want an update.” She looked over at John and frowned. He looked tired and had already taken a seat in the armchair in the corner. “You as well John. We did die today, we all need a complete medical exam, no arguments.”

John nodded and got to his feet. His easy compliance concerned her but she supposed that perhaps it shouldn’t, he’d been nothing but compliant since the moment he’d arrived. He’d acquiesced without a hint of protest to isolation and he’d transported them everywhere they needed to go. Still there was something troubling about his expression. She’d feel better keeping an eye on him.

“Just like old times, the four of us, the blood,” Nikola mused as they filed out of her office. “Helen, desperate to get my shirt off,” he added slyly.

Suddenly it almost did feel like old times as John huffed with amusement, taking the comment as it had been intended for a change, James rolled his eyes and Helen feigned annoyance. It wasn’t quite the same, as nothing was anymore, and not just because Nigel wasn’t there. Back in the day the banter would have continued with John remarking that she was welcome to his shirt, as she looked better in it than he did anyway, but he stayed silent.

It wasn’t his place anymore, hadn’t been for over a century, and he knew that. But for the first time in over a century Helen ached to hear it anyway. Mentally she shook herself, today had been a lot, it had brought up feelings she’d long buried. The sooner they synthesised the cure, the sooner they would save the world from the Cabal, and the sooner the three men with her would leave Old City. Then she could put those feelings back in the box where they belonged, after all what else could she do.

*****

They had been in the lab for less than an hour when the phone rang.

James had exchanged his tweed jacket for a white lab coat and was seated in front of the centrifuge, the vial of blood next to him. Helen had also donned a lab coat, hanging her black leather jacket next to James’ on the coat rack in the corner. She stood in front of the computer monitor, running another simulation on the antigen projections. Nikola had shed his coat and pushed his sleeves up. Marker in hand he was scrawling various formulas on the whiteboard she kept at the far end of the lab.

They’d only taken a few drops of the blood so far for testing. Nikola had reminded them half a dozen times about what had happened with Tavius, and how that proved they didn’t need as much as they’d previously thought, hence his focus on the formulas. They’d spent months on those equations in 1887, it had been a difficult balance to strike between not using enough blood, and wasting it, and clearly they should have been more cautious.

John had taken a stool and parked himself in a corner out of the way. Helen kept finding herself glancing over to him, he was so still, his expression pensive. As she’d expected the moment they got to the lab they’d just started work on the blood, so she’d yet to do a medical exam on any of them, but the second they got to a part where they were just waiting for results she was going to take the opportunity.

Helen hadn’t told Will what had happened in Praxis, merely that they’d been successful. She was quite sure that he’d noticed that James was without his life support machine and leg braces but he hadn’t mentioned it. Instead, after he’d finished his report, he’d taken her hints that he should return to Sanctuary duties, as it was time for the evening feeding schedule. It had been very much a case of ‘no news was good news’ as there had been no new serious assaults on humans by abnormals, her old friend’s condition was still the same, and Will hadn’t heard from Ashley and Henry.

The phone ringing shattered the quiet of the lab.

“Ashley?” Helen grabbed it on only the third ring. She trusted Ashley but the length of time they’d been gone had been playing on her mind, the relief on hearing her voice was immeasurable. “Good, stand by.”

Swiftly Helen moved back over to the computer. It was the work of moments to bring up the interface Henry had designed to start tracing the call. She twisted to see that John had already got to his feet. A couple of quick strides and he was by her side, his eyes fixed to the monitor waiting for the coordinates to appear.

“I’ll bring them home,” John promised.

On the outside Helen was certain she looked as controlled as always, she had too much experience at portraying that calm demeanour, but on the inside her heart was in her throat. She heard Henry urging the computer to move faster, which was situation normal for her adopted son, but then she heard Ashley’s low groan and knew something had gone wrong. Henry’s panicked words only confirmed it. She heard Ashley reassure him _‘just give them a few more seconds’_ and then finally, miraculously, the computer bleeped, flashing the coordinates.

In a heartbeat John was gone. A handful of seconds, which felt like an eternity, later he reappeared, a firm hand on both Ashley and Henry’s shoulders.

“That was good timing,” John confirmed gravely.

Helen nodded in thank you, not trusting her words in that moment, just closing the distance in the blink of an eye to wrap her arms around her daughter. Ashley returned the hug with just as much need which was worrying, and the only reason why Helen broke the embrace. She took a step back to look over Ashley critically. They’d been gone a long time and-

“Crap.” Ashley stumbled, her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“Ashley!” Helen called in alarm. John caught her before she hit the ground. “Get her to the infirmary.” Helen turned to Henry even before the swirl of teleportation had faded. “What the hell happened to her?”

Henry shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, we were separated for a long time.”

He looked skittish and wouldn’t meet her eyes. Helen’s sense of foreboding grew. “You’ll accompany me to the infirmary for a complete exam, and you will tell me everything that you do know. Start from the moment you left the Sanctuary and leave nothing out.”

“But Doc I got the jump drive to look at and-”

“Nikola can handle it,” Helen said firmly, her tone brooking no argument.

“Hand it over Heinrich.” Nikola held out his hand and with very bad grace Henry fished in his pocket for the drive and handed it to him.

“You go on ahead Helen. I’ll bring Henry to the infirmary, I have a few questions of my own,” James said.

Helen quickly nodded and strode out of the lab, her mind already on the first tests she’d need to run. As much as she wanted to believe it was nothing, Ashley had never collapsed post-mission before. She had a really bad feeling about this.

*****

James looked intently at Henry, who shifted under his scrutiny. James’ gaze missed nothing. There were the obvious signs of nerves, rubbing the back of his neck, biting his lip and of course refusing to look anyone in the eye. Beyond the obvious James could hear the slight rasp in Henry’s vocal cords which coupled with the burst capillaries in his eyes, and the defensive body language, suggested that he’d been screaming. James would posit torture but there were no outward signs of injury.

Henry’s face was slightly swollen, puffy around his nose, and that was a more familiar after effect that James had noticed from Henry’s transformations. Add in the Cabal’s interest in abnormals and James had his deduction. It had been medical torture, they’d tried to force a transformation, but for what purpose as it clearly hadn’t been dissection?

The feeling of wrongness that James had been fighting returned tenfold. The Cabal testing a virus which made abnormals aggressive to humans fit their modus operandi. It had been tested in a reasonably isolated area, so there was limited containment. Enough abnormals had been affected to provide adequate test data and it was unlikely to trigger an abnormal/human conflict on its own. The threat of the Cabal releasing the virus worldwide had never made sense. They wanted to control abnormals and profit from them, an abnormal/human war would just bring chaos, and be far too unpredictable for anyone to truly benefit.

“How did you escape?” James asked deliberately. Something was tickling at the back of his brain, there was something they weren’t seeing.

“They locked me in a walk-in freezer.” Henry shrugged. “I guess that place didn’t have proper cells, best they could do, I don’t know. Anyway I threw myself against the door until the lock gave way.”

“And then you went and found Ashley?” James continued absently, seeing the puzzle unfold in front of his eyes, he had the pieces he just needed to put them together.

“Yeah.” Henry perked up at the thought. “And our stuff. It was in a box on the side. Ashley was on this gurney, I knocked this orderly right out, took his shirt and mask.”

“That’s too easy,” James murmured.

“Too easy? Doc!” Henry objected.

“You were allowed to escape,” Nikola agreed, glancing over the top of the computer monitor. “Practically handed it to you.”

“Hey we only made it out because of Druitt,” Henry argued. “We got the data and trust me none of it was easy.”

“You were saying.” Nikola arched an eyebrow and turned the computer monitor around.

Henry groaned in disappointment and horror. Ghost like apparitions were all over the monitor. “Doc, it’s showing that it’s ghost data, no codes, no input, nothing we can use.”

James nodded, though he’d already worked that out for himself. He had eyes and he could clearly see that the drive itself was reading as almost empty. It seemed Henry, like most Sanctuary personnel, had fallen victim to the same false rumour that he was a complete luddite. Quite why they could think that, while simultaneously knowing he’d developed a marvel of technology to prolong his life, challenged even his deductive mind - precisely because it wasn’t logical.

That rumour had been started due to his preference for the telegram over the more modern email. It was really quite a logical position, it was a matter of security. Every day new methods of subverting modern communications were developed, there were always stories in the press about hacked email accounts, but nobody these days paid any attention to the telegram. With the right protocols in place to confirm identity telegrams could be trusted whereas email could not.

“Ashley,” James breathed. His eyes snapped over to Henry. “Raise the EM shield.”

“Erm ok,” Henry said slowly, moving over to the computer. “Why?”

“Game theory Henry. We’ve been playing chess against a master. They made their moves knowing what our counter would be.” James looked over at the vial of blood, sitting innocuously on the table in front of him. “It’s what they were counting on the entire time.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lifted some dialogue wholesale from Revelations here because canon was just too damn perfect on that front. This might be canon-divergence but that conversation needed to happen.

Helen smoothed back Ashley’s hair from her face. As a child the only time Ashley stood still was when she was sleeping, the complete stillness was just alien to her character. Ashley was all physicality, running and climbing all day when she was little, running and shooting now she was older. When Ashley was growing up Helen had been grateful for her blood-enhanced stamina, even with it she’d still often been worn out by the end of the day. Back then she’d relished the quiet moments, where Ashley would sleep, she looked so peaceful.

Now, lying on the infirmary bed, Ashley didn’t look peaceful, she looked unnatural and more than anything Helen wanted her to wake up. She grabbed the vial of blood that she’d drawn. Every part of her ached to stay at her daughters side but Ashley wouldn’t be served by a bedside vigil, and these tests wouldn’t run themselves.

“How is she?” John asked, the moment the door clicked closed.

“She’s unconscious. Something is wrong, her blood pressures elevated. I need to run more tests,” Helen told him.

John’s face twisted in pain. “They’ve done something to her.”

Automatically Helen’s hand came up, gently cupping John’s upper arm. “She’ll be all right, John. She’s strong.”

His tortured gaze met hers and just as it had with James, on that Praxis rooftop, an ocean of agony sprung up between them. Their paths had crossed several times since that fateful day in Whitechapel. She had thrown his murderous ways in his face more than once but they had never spoken about what it had cost them personally. They had never spoken of broken hearts, a broken promise of _‘for eternity’_ , of the broken bonds between them. The closest they’d come was when she’d admitted that Ashley was his, and that she’d only brought her to term because she’d thought he was gone forever.

That should have been a goodbye but the truth as always was more complicated than that. When she’d first asked James to help her freeze the embryo it had been because it was too much. Finding out she was pregnant on the heels of Whitechapel, her head had been spinning, and she’d been certain that any decision she’d make would be the wrong one so she’d opted for a holding pattern. She’d put the decision off for another day. The best part of a century had passed and then Henry had come into her life. This traumatised subdued three year old who needed a home, a family, and she’d taken him in without a second thought. Looking after Henry had reawakened the desire for family, for children, and the idea had grown in her mind until she couldn’t resist.

If she’d just wanted a child there were any number of ways she could have got pregnant, but instead she’d implanted the frozen embryo. Ashley had always been a child born of love. John’s actions couldn’t change that. Maybe she’d been trying to capture what should have been, a life where Whitechapel didn’t happen and Ashley was their firstborn. In this life that never was James would have fathered her second child, they would have been a family. She hadn’t had Ashley to say goodbye to John, she’d had her to keep a part of him with her, to repair a thread of those shattered bonds.

“Helen,” John hesitated. “I don’t know why but I feel … it’s strange. I can’t … something’s changed-”

“Helen!”

She wrenched her eyes away from John to see James limping down the corridor.

“I think I’ve worked out why it never made any dratted sense,” James exclaimed as he approached. “The Cabal wants to control abnormals but the lazarus virus just generates chaos. What do they gain from it?”

“You’ve raised the EM shield,” John stated, his tone gravelly with pain. There was a faint look of betrayal in his eyes when he looked at James. “There really is no need, I’d like to stay close if that’s alright.” John glanced at Helen.

Distractedly she nodded. “Yes of course.”

“John.” James' hand clasped his forearm. “I didn’t raise the shield for you. Think what I just said, ask yourself what the Cabal desires most. What happened as a result of the lazarus test?”

“Oh God,” Helen breathed, understanding snapping into place. “We retrieved the blood. You think that was the Cabal’s true goal?”

James shrugged. “I can’t be certain but I’m afraid Ashley’s collapse is most suggestive. The missing piece to what I could not previously see. The data Henry copied was only ever an illusion, there’s nothing on the drive. It sounds very much like they were permitted to escape.”

“The boy said that they were separated for a long time. What have they done to her Helen?” John demanded, his voice rising with emotion.

Helen turned to look at Ashley through the observation window. Thinking furiously Helen grasped at the puzzle pieces. James had likely raised the shield as a precaution. They knew from testing that Ashley hadn’t inherited her longevity, and she had never shown any signs of having inherited her father’s teleportation, but the potential still lay within her DNA. As Nigel’s letter proved, the gifts from the source blood could be passed onto the next generation. As Nikola and his vampirism proved, sometimes those traits could lie dormant and just need something to activate them.

The Cabal had the ability to control minds, the Scarab beetle, as they’d found with Gregory Magnus. Ashley and Henry had been separated a long time, either one of them could be a trojan horse, but Ashley was the one who had collapsed and Ashley was the one with the potential to be able to make a quick escape after stealing the Cabal’s prize. James had said from the beginning that there was something they weren’t seeing, but now the game was afoot, the Cabal’s endgame was easier to deduce.

“We’ll need to scan her for the Scarab,” Helen thought out loud. “And run a full genetic comparison with the profile on file.”

“Henry’s in isolation two,” James added. “I doubt he’s affected but we should probably check anyone who’s had dealings with the Cabal for the Scarab. And Helen.” James hesitated, his expression turning grave. “If Ashley is under their control, we have to allow for the possibility that she talked.”

Helen’s eyes closed in mute denial but James was right. Ashley knew the location of every Sanctuary base, the identities of all the heads of houses, she knew all their security protocols. Outside of a head of house nobody knew more about the Sanctuary network.

“If Henry clears I’ll have him start overhauling our security protocols at once, and liaising with his counterparts at the other sanctuary houses.” Helen shook her head, her conversation with James in Praxis danced in her mind. When he’d left the Sanctuary that morning he hadn’t thought he would return. “If you hadn’t been here James-”

“You would have figured it out I’m sure, or perhaps young William,” James said confidently. “Presuming I’m right of course.”

“You always are,” John murmured.

“Not always,” James said sharply.

Their eyes met. Helen saw a muscle in John’s jaw start to twitch and decided it was best if she was no longer here. She didn’t say anything, she just side-stepped the two men to walk past them down the corridor. There was so much left unsaid between the three of them. John and James might have had drinks in her office last night but she knew there had been no closure. That had probably been what James had been hoping for, given what she now knew about his thankfully averted imminent death. But Will had been too curious, too enamoured with the living legend of Sherlock Holmes to leave them alone, and so John and James had fallen back into the old subtle patterns they’d perfected at Oxford.

Intimate acts between men had been considered gross indecency back then, even in private, so they had to be careful nobody suspected they were more than friends. Loaded statements and meaningful eye contact could only go so far. The depths of emotion that accompanied the events of Whitechapel, and it’s fallout, required actual conversation. It was a conversation John and James had avoided for over a century, despite their paths having crossed a few times up until World War Two. After everything that had happened at Praxis, that dam was about to burst.

*****

James broke eye contact first. Pacing on the spot he tried to find the words. In the dead of night, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d thought about what to say to John a hundred times over. The problem was there was too much to say and yet no words were sufficient to properly express his feelings, the emotions that swallowed him whole and were just so utterly overwhelming he could drown in them.

“The seventh girl you murdered, April 1888. They found her body under a bridge near Wapping. Why move her from Whitechapel? It's tormented me. But why taint your calling card? Why change the rules? I remember, I asked your opinion at the time over brandies at the Reform Club and you said, ‘Perhaps the old boy's losing his taste for the sport.’ But were you?” James asked.

The questions flew to his tongue because Whitechapel - it all came back to Whitechapel. John looked pained. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes beseeching James to end this but James couldn’t do that.

“My actions were not of my own; but thrust upon me... by an irresistible force,” John explained haltingly, his eyes distant as if looking at something far away. “I suppose it must have been quite the blow to your ego when you finally learnt the truth,” he added diffidently.

_‘Defense tactic’_ whispered in James’ mind. “Just that I failed to see the clues laid out before me,” he parried automatically.

_‘Our battle of wits’_ John had said last night and so it had ever been between them but there was very little truth in that, and James was tired of the game. This had been a century in the making. He took a step forward.

“It was that it was you, John,” James said. He took another step closer. His face screwed up in a snarl, shaking with emotion. “For God's sake; it was you!”

They were close enough now that James could feel John’s rapid breath against his lips. Close enough that he could see everything as was his habit. He could see John’s throat bob as he swallowed. He could see the pain etched in the corner of John’s eyes. He could see his lip tremble. In the times their paths had crossed since 1888 James had seen the cold-blooded killer, and there was no trace of the Ripper in front of him now.

“James,” John breathed, unshed tears forming in his eyes.

James looked away. This was pointless, some things could never be undone. Showing John how badly he’d hurt him, to what end? John likely already knew that, all they were doing was picking at old wounds. There was no clearing the air, there was no closure. What John had done haunted them all and it always would. There could be no redemption, his head insisted, but I miss him whispered his heart.

“James, something has changed,” John said shakily. “Since Tesla-”

“Later John,” James said firmly, suddenly feeling every inch of his hundred and sixty years. “Now, to use your words from last night, we need to save the world as we know it.”

*****

It was 3am when her phone buzzed because of course it was. Kate Freelander grabbed for it, the caller ID was ‘unknown’ but only one person had this number.

“Dana, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me. Surveillance gigs are easy money but my butts going numb, any chance of some relief?” Kate opened flippantly.

She stretched and leaned back in the chair. Three goddamn days she’d been at this with just a few snatched hours of sleep here and there when her Cabal minders gave the nod. Cheap bastards wanted the best so they hired her, but then refused to pay out for anyone else to share the load. Three days she’d been parked down the street from the Old City Sanctuary. She’d cracked their security the first day, it honestly was not that hard, but per orders she’d only planted cameras on public land several feet away from the property.

The Cabal seemed to be wary of the Sanctuary network which she really didn’t get. Sure the Sanctuary folks were pretty good but they’d never been challenged, they were mostly all soft civilians. Case in point her old van had been parked on their block for three days and they’d not taken one look. Didn’t these people watch movies? Vans were built for surveillance ops and she had a pretty sweet ride. Engine was upgraded so it could really move if she needed to get out of dodge, and the back had two monitors and a comfy chair for watching those pesky camera feeds.

“Oh Kate, why didn’t you say you were getting bored,” Dana said sweetly. “How about something a little more exciting to do?”

“Hey you are the one paying the bills. What do you need me to do?” Kate asked.

“Our asset inside the sanctuary appears to have failed in their mission. That mission is now yours,” Dana began.

Kate frowned, asset inside the sanctuary? Since when. Curiosity warred with self-preservation. She liked to know things, it had got her into a lot of trouble over the years, but on the other hand she really didn’t care. Less she knew the better. The Cabal had enemies and she didn’t want them to be her enemies. That’s why she wasn’t Cabal, she was just on their payroll. They paid the best so she worked for them but she wasn’t a believer. If it ever got too hot then she’d be gone.

“Come on don’t keep me in suspense here,” Kate coaxed.

“Your target is a vial of blood. It’ll probably still be in an old-fashioned beaker, likely in one of the labs. You should know it when you see it. Get in, get the blood, get out,” Dana explained.

Kate sucked in a breath through her teeth. “That’s a big op Dana. Sure I can do it but it’ll cost you.”

“Triple your usual fee on successful delivery,” Dana promised.

“One vial of blood coming up.” Kate clicked the phone closed, quite sure that her surprise was written all over her face.

She’d spent years quieting her conscience until she barely even noticed it anymore. The world was a shitty place, she was just trying to earn a buck. If it wasn’t her it would be someone else. However, triple her usual fee did give her a slight moment of pause. The Cabal had deep pockets sure but they weren’t known for their generosity. They must want this vial of blood very badly and she knew it wasn’t going to be for anything good.

Kate shook her head banishing the vague feeling of unease. Triple her usual fee? Hell yeah! It would mean she could afford to take a few weeks vacation after this. Somewhere tropical, on a beach with those drinks with the tiny umbrellas. After days in this increasingly stinky van she’d earned that. She grabbed for the handle on the van door and pushed it open, clambering out onto the sidewalk. She took a deep breath of the cool night air.

Besides if the Sanctuary guys didn’t want people to steal their stuff they should really invest in better security. It was their own fault. She turned back to the van and grabbed her gun, shoving it into the holster she kept in the small of her back. She pulled her leather jacket on, over her check shirt, before she started shivering. 3am was a great time for an ambush, the whole ‘we own the night’ thing totally had a point. Chances were everyone was sleeping but, just in case they weren’t, she was going with Plan A. Another total classic; while the Sanctuary were running around in a panic she’d sneak right past them, and be in and out before they even knew she was there.

She grabbed her rucksack which contained all the toys she’d need and shut the van door firmly. Kate set off down the street. She had to circle round but just a few minutes later she was at the largest hole in the Sanctuary’s perimeter. There were others of course, she even had a way through the front gate if it came to it, but she risked detection with that one. The Old City Sanctuary was a gothic building, very imposing, with high thick walls. But the problem with the Sanctuary is that people lived there, and they didn’t want the residents to feel like it was a prison. So once you got past the fence, and onto the grounds, the security was limited.

There was nothing between the back of the Sanctuary and the river except open ground. To the right there was more open ground and then houses. The front was equally unhelpful with the wide road between the Sanctuary’s front wall and the opposing buildings. Those buildings were maybe twice as high as the wall but with the gap that wasn’t enough. However, on the left there were several apartment buildings - tall apartment buildings. The Sanctuary spires were several stories high but the apartment building exceeded the tallest tower.

One grappling hook later and she’d ziplined over the wall, landing on the sloped roof. For a few long seconds she struggled with the line. Never knew when she’d have to break in again, and so there was no need to let them know how she’d managed it. Eventually the line retracted and she swung down the building, landing in a crouch on the grass below. She’d spotted several doorways onto the different roofs, they probably weren’t locked or alarmed because why would they be? But that would mean a long walk through the building to her intended destination. It was easier just to jog across the grounds to where the Sanctuary had their own van parked.

Just a few feet from the back of the van was a set of double doors. Kate pushed against them and her eyebrows shot up when they opened.

“Too easy,” Kate muttered to herself.

The winding corridors were dim, lit only by emergency lighting, but she could tell she was in the right place. This was the SHU, aka the Secure Housing Unit, where the Sanctuary kept the abnormals that were too dangerous to be allowed to roam free. It would be a real shame if somebody disabled all the security protocols and opened all the doors. A wicked grin spread across her face. Stage One: distraction was a go.

Now there was a computer on the side, she could hack in and disable everything that way but most systems like these had a major weakness. The doors were electronic and could be opened and closed remotely. A set of wire cutters, and a few snips here and there, and then one well-placed power surge and the clank of locks disengaging started echoing throughout the section, and then the doors slid open.

Kate started to run, she had maybe ten seconds before the monsters realised they now controlled the asylum, and this was now the last place on earth she wanted to be. She was up the stairs and through a door before the alarm started to sound.

*****

James jumped, knocking the syringe he’d been holding to the floor. The Sanctuary alarm was a familiar sound, they tested it every year, he’d helped choose the blaring insistent single-tone. His head snapped up towards the red emergency flashing light which had started strobing the moment the alarm sounded. He looked over at Nikola who was glaring at the remains of his wine glass. Nikola tossed it in the bin, hissing he pulled a couple of shards of glass from his fingers.

“Somebody better be dying, that was actually a semi-decent pinot,” Nikola griped.

“Containment alarm,” James shouted over the din. He reached for the hand radio on the desk, raising it to his mouth he pressed transmit. “Anyone know what’s going on?”

“Big trouble!” Henry’s voice crackled over the radio. “Some sort of power surge, I don’t know, but the SHU is fried. All the doors are wide freakin’ open.”

“Henry lock that section down and turn off the alarm, it’s served its purpose,” Helen ordered over the radio.

“Already done doc but it ain’t gonna hold forever. The containment cells are designed for that but the corridors and internal doors not so much, and they are plenty mad,” Henry exclaimed.

James’ mind raced. Thankfully the cacophony ceased a moment later, which made it a touch easier to think, but this didn’t require Sherlock Holmes to deduce what was going on. There was no way this was a coincidence. A major containment breach the same day, or technically the day after, they retrieved the blood. Just hours after they had discovered that Ashley had been compromised, enough time for the Cabal to reason that they’d lost their asset in place. Helen had removed the Scarab an hour ago but the genetic tampering would take longer to decipher and stabilize. For now Ashley was under heavy sedation, and the EM shield remained in place.

“You stay with Ashley Helen,” James transmitted. “She could be a target. I’m sure Nikola won’t mind assisting with crowd control.”

“Oh great, send me to wrangle the monsters,” Nikola complained. “If this is the Cabal, letting the inmates run wild is nothing more than a distraction-”

“I know,” James interrupted firmly. “But-”

“I’m sending John down as well,” Helen replied, her tone sounding clipped even over the radio. “Henry, get the system back online. Do whatever it takes.”

“You got it doc,” Henry vowed.

James put the radio back down. Nikola looked dubious, his eyes flickering between James and the vial of blood on the counter beside him. James stared at Nikola impassively. It was far more likely that the blood was the target, and not Ashley, and both men knew it. Oh James was certain that Ashley would be a very useful asset for the Cabal, and that they would like to have her back, but he also knew that it would take an army to manage it.

When the Cabal had wanted to retrieve the Morrigan they’d sent a couple of dozen keepers of the dead and two tactical units. Ashley and Helen, with a small amount of assistance from Helen’s manservant and young Doctor Zimmerman, had dealt with that assault. If the Cabal had been watching them closely enough to know they’d retrieved the blood, they almost certainly knew who was in residence.

The last time none of the keepers had survived. With John and Nikola both in play, James couldn’t actually think of a force the Cabal controlled that could stand against them. Helen had reported the Cabal’s experiments in creating super-soldiers, that was a possibility, but maybe he was biased. Nothing she had described sounded as if it would be more than a challenge for his two old friends. Thankfully it was unlikely that the Cabal would unleash the Morrigan, Helen’s report had said the witches had only agreed to surrender if the Cabal left the Sanctuary personnel unharmed. He didn’t think they’d agree to kill them now.

No, the logical deduction was that it was a stealth operation. A small team, or perhaps even just one agent. Either way Nikola was best placed in the thick of the action. It was time he got into the fray.

“The SHU houses what young Henry calls the ‘worst of the worst’. Distraction or not it has to be dealt with before they overrun the entire building,” James reasoned.

Nikola sighed with resignation. “Very well.” He headed to the door before turning, a smirk on his face. “I can’t help but wonder how you managed sixty years without me.”

“Easily,” James retorted.

His hand brushed the front of his waistcoat and he twitched, the shock of feeling against his chest was still surprising, a constant reminder of his mortality. The machine had been a part of him for so long that he’d forgotten what it meant. It’s absence was a gift that showed how precious life was. He was a hundred and sixty, he’d lived two lifetimes, but how many of those years had he truly lived? That was the problem with there always being more time, it was easy to forget what truly mattered.

“Nikola,” James called after him, just before he slipped out the door. “It would have been even easier _with_ you. You’ll always have a place here.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me now James, I haven’t had nearly enough wine.” Nikola smirked and left.

James hoped that he’d heard what he meant. God only knew that Nikola’s ego was large enough but it wasn’t his vampirism or his inventive mind that made him valuable to The Five. Quite simply he was their friend. Someday soon this mess would all be over and they’d go their separate ways, but they couldn’t afford it to be another sixty years before they reunited again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The James fight scene drew inspiration from the new Sherlock Holmes movies. You know the "capacity to spit at back of head, neutralized" type. Just in case anyone wondered what on earth I was doing there.

Nikola strode through the Sanctuary corridors. It was a good job he’d familiarised himself with the building layout after their return from Italy. Annoyingly the lab he’d been in was in the west wing, and the SHU was in the east. The simplest path was to go up two levels, across the residential floor to the elevator, and then down to the main sanctuary concourse. The infirmary was slightly closer, he probably wouldn’t catch up with Johnny until they both reached the SHU.

Time was of the essence so he should probably be running but outside of being pursued he rarely found it necessary. It hardly made for a dignified entrance. Besides he was listening. There were Cabal agents in the building, that much was certain, and they would be traversing the same territory but in reverse - going from the SHU to the lab. There were multiple paths so he might not run into them, but he didn’t want to be caught unaware if he did. As he moved down the residential corridor, the sound of a door creaking had his talons growing.

“Hey what’s going on?” Will asked, tugging a shirt over his head as he stepped out of his bedroom.

“Finally awake are you?” Nikola sneered, letting his talons retract again. “The Cabal are here. Radio Helen for instructions, I don’t have the time.”

Will dove back into his room, presumably to grab the radio, and Nikola continued on his way. He punched the button for the elevator, stepped inside, and tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for it to descend. The doors opened and he came face to face with John.

“It’s this way.” John gestured for Nikola to follow him.

The architecture of the underground of the Sanctuary varied. Nikola suspected that this main area had been the first with the brick arches, the lab with it’s perfectly square room painted beige over modern plaster would have come much later. Sure sign that not everything got better with age. To Nikola’s surprise John headed straight for a cluttered alcove; there was a blinking server rack, a computer with two monitors, and a desk covered in wires and loose parts of machinery. John reached below the desk and pulled out a box. He reached into the box and held out a gun for Nikola to take.

Nikola shook his head and reached for his power; his eyes turned black, his teeth crowded into fangs and his talons grew. He pointedly tapped the talons of one hand against the desk. “I have no need for a gun,” his voice echoed.

“Helen doesn’t wish us to harm the creatures. Not unduly anyway.” John stared at him implacably.

Nikola huffed, let the transformation fade, and took the weapon, pushing it into his waistband. “What about the creatures harming us?”

John’s lips twitched with amusement, an expression which Nikola couldn’t help but return. Even with the EM shield up John was deadly, and Nikola had yet to meet any beast that could match a vampire. Helen’s concern would have been nice but it was hardly necessary.

“These are of young Mr Foss’ design. Some kind of stun weapon. If you ask nicely he might let you take one apart later,” John taunted, as he set off again.

For a moment Nikola tapped into his enhanced speed so that he could draw level with John, matching the taller man’s strides, he refused to trail in his wake. “How is it that you know your way around, I don’t imagine Helen gave you a tour.”

“I…” John hesitated and cleared his throat. “I’ve been here before.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Nikola drawled. “Do tell.”

Nikola didn’t expect the story, he’d get that out of the protégé or the wolf boy later, but he was expecting a poisonous look, or a barbed quip, but John said nothing. In fact if Nikola didn’t know better he’d think that Johnny actually looked ashamed. Remorse from the Ripper wasn’t something he’d thought possible so he left it alone. It was almost certainly provoked by Helen, and if any woman could do the impossible it was Helen Magnus. Helen was unique, close to his intellectual equal, and he’d admired her from afar for years. But she had been Johnny’s, and James’, and then nobody’s and she seemed to prefer it that way. He’d never minded the knockbacks, only the two of them had forever after all.

It was clear when they were almost at the SHU, there was a steady pounding. At least one abnormal was trying to break through the wall with brute force. Nikola’s lip curled, that one he wasn’t concerned with, it was too dumb to be trouble. It would be the abnormals who waited for the door to open, or who attacked the weak points like the vents, that might make this interesting.

“Ready?” John checked.

“Always. Do try and keep up.” Nikola smirked.

John rolled his eyes and pulled the radio from his pocket and hit transmit. “Open the door if you please Mr Foss.”

There was a click of the electronic lock disabling. A second later a blur of fur and claws hit the door with a thud. Thankfully the door opened inward, not outward, and it was reinforced so it easily held. John turned to him and Nikola arched an eyebrow. _‘Oh yes this was going to be fun’_ he snarked mentally. John gestured for him to go first and Nikola squared his shoulders before reaching for the handle.

“The things we do for that woman,” Nikola muttered, letting the transformation take him.

He yanked the handle down and then with all of his vampire strength threw himself at the door. It burst open, throwing the would-be-escaping abnormal back several feet. Nikola snarled and leapt after it, he raised his hand, claws extended aiming for the throat on a downswing as he landed. Then he remembered that Helen did not want these things harmed. Retracting the talons on his right hand, he landed crouched on the balls of his feet and withdrew the gifted gun from his waistband.

Pop. A shaped blast of air flew past him, hitting the furry beast squarely in the side.

Nikola looked down the corridor to see John, gun in hand, arm outstretched.

“Do try and keep up old boy,” John said, as he picked his way past. “One: zero, I believe.”

Hissing Nikola straightened and followed down the corridor and out into the main square of the SHU. A flicker of movement in the corner, and bang. Aimed, fired and some small lizard creature dropped to the floor like a stone in a river. Nikola pivoted. A curled up snake was crushing a rock monster. Two quick blasts and boom.

“Three: one Johnny,” Nikola taunted.

A blur of dark motion hit his side, Nikola tumbled to the ground. He twisted just in time to see the snake he’d ‘claimed’ hit the observation window. It slid to the ground, the fangs leaving a wet streak behind.

“You’re welcome,” John said as he rolled off him. “I believe that makes it two all.”

“Two: one,” Nikola corrected, scrambling to his feet.

“Oh yes. I’m sure the beast just wanted a nibble,” John said sarcastically. In the corner the shadows had eyes. He aimed and nothing happened. He lifted the gun up to his face to examine it. “Damnit, Helen said this thing was temperamental.”

“Here.” Nikola pressed his gun into John’s hands. “You shoot them, I’ll throw them back in their boxes.”

Negligently John tossed the failed gun away and accepted Nikola’s. “Together then.”

A growl and something furry launched itself at them. Nikola threw out an arm, batting it away. The snake-like abnormal slithered towards them from the left, the chittering of an insect and a dozen claws sounded from the right. Nikola moved so they were back to back, adjusting his claws so they covered his otherwise human nails but shouldn’t be long enough to rip into any of Helen’s pets. He rolled his shoulders and hissed. With the Cabal in the building he really had better places to be. It was time to finish this.

*****

The moment the door clicked shut, after Nikola left the lab, James’ mind turned to the problem at hand. There was no telling what information the Cabal had, and they seemed to have far too much for his liking, so a floorplan of the Sanctuary wasn’t out of the question. James looked down at the vial of blood and what little sanguine vampiris remained within it. A myriad of possibilities presented themselves and it would certainly behove him to take precautions.

He stood, feeling the muscles in his legs protest with a slight ache at the movement. His distaste showed on his face. He’d mourned the loss of his physical abilities, as he’d slowly lost them over the last few decades, but it was still something he’d never quite accepted. Now he had his life back it was maddening that he still felt such weakness. Logically it made sense. Whatever they had pumped into him in Praxis had restored his health, but not his vitality. That would require time and a considerable amount of exercise.

Still it could have been worse, he was fortunate to still be in the prime of his life. The suit was designed to extend his life but he hadn’t thought it could stall the appearance of aging as much as it had. Nigel’s life explained a great deal. He had started work on his machine early after comparing his cells, and Nigel’s, with Helen’s. She might have forever but it was obvious that they did not. He began wearing his device long before it would actually have been needed, Nigel had demurred his offer but then it would have made his invisibility useless. Time passed and Nigel didn’t appear to age much, and neither did he.

The last time he’d seen Nigel had been in the 50’s, and he still didn’t look more than a handful of years older than he had in 1887. When he’d gone to Nigel’s funeral a decade later he’d seen photographic evidence of precisely what had happened. A few decades worth of aging had been packed into the last couple of years of Nigel’s life. He’d lived an above average, but still very human, life-span. When he’d told Helen she’d theorised a ‘prime of life’ longevity. Nigel had only had his allotted years but he’d got to live them in full health. If it hadn’t been for the suit the same fate would have been his, instead his life had been extended as designed. James had expected that when the suit failed he would age decades in minutes. Now, with Praxis’ concoction in his system, he wasn’t sure what would happen.

The computer monitor rested on one end of the desk. Underneath there was a unit of three drawers. James opened the top drawer and pulled out a syringe. He put it down and shrugged off the white lab coat and then rolled up one sleeve. If all else failed, the Cabal had come for blood, and he could give them that. He drew a full syringe and then started looking for an appropriate beaker. Unfortunately Helen didn’t stock antiques. All the glass beakers had white measuring lines on them. It would have to do. He’d lie if necessary and say that they’d transferred it to a clean vial due to contamination. It was plausible and he wasn’t planning on giving them long to think about it.

James pushed the plunger on the syringe, depositing his blood in the fresh beaker. He put it down next to the centrifuge and picked up the source blood. There wasn’t anywhere secure to put it, so he just placed it in a cupboard out of sight. Precautions taken he started to think about the fight. The deadliest weapon of any true fighter was their mind. Physically he wasn’t in top-form but that didn’t mean he couldn’t provide the Cabal with a challenge.

He glanced down, spotting the syringe he’d dropped earlier when the alarm startled him. That gave him an idea. There was only one entrance into this room. He could prepare the battlefield. He chuckled. If the Cabal thought he was going to be the weak link, they were going to be disappointed.

*****

“Too easy,” Kate whispered to herself again.

Walking through the Sanctuary she’d only had to dodge one person, and that hadn’t been difficult. Blondie had been making enough noise to pass for a herd of elephants, as he ran down the corridor, jabbering into the radio clutched tightly in his hand. She’d just ducked into the nearest room and waited for him to pass.

Finding the lab with the blood had admittedly not been quite as easy as she’d hoped. This old building was a maze. She’d passed several rooms which might have qualified as labs but unless the lights were on, the blood wasn’t going to be home. Given how bad the Cabal wanted it, there was zero chance it had been left unattended. Sanctuary security might be lame but she didn’t think they were that stupid.

Fortunately the Sanctuary seemed to value their electric bill. It had been easy to make good time as most rooms were in the dark. She’d moved from east to west, as she had to start somewhere, and she was just thinking she’d need to double back and check the north when she saw the light. It was spilling out into the corridor from the square window cut into the top half of the door. Kate flattened her back against the wall and slid the last few feet. Window was reinforced with steel mesh which was a good sign. She peered through from the side and saw that this was definitely a lab, even had a guy in a lab coat, and more importantly a beaker containing blood on the table.

Kate pulled the gun from her holster. She didn’t want to have to use it but this dude didn’t look like he was carrying. He was probably some geek left to work while anyone who could fight was corralling abnormals in the SHU. She’d wave it in his face, scare him a little, then tie him up so she could make her escape. Piece of cake.

She stepped back and shoved open the door, it slammed back with a bang.

“Hands up.” Arm outstretched Kate aimed the gun at the geek. “You do as I say, you won’t get hurt.”

“A solo operator,” James commented. “Impressive, the Cabal must trust you a great deal my dear.”

“I’m not Cabal,” Kate told him automatically. “They are just the ones that pay me the most.”

“A mercenary, how interesting. What if we offered to double your fee?” James asked.

Kate set her jaw and shrugged nonchalantly. “You couldn’t afford me. Now get over there.”

She gestured with the gun to the back of the lab. There was a pipe that ran down the wall, always a good place to tie someone up. There was a knowing glint in this guy's eye that she didn’t like. Hey, refusing to screw your clients was just a sound business strategy. Who would hire her if she flaked out the second she was offered more money? It had nothing to do with loyalty and certainly not loyalty to the Cabal. The only person she was loyal to was herself, and maybe her idiot brother.

“I don’t think so,” James refused calmly.

*****

In the fifteen minutes he’d waited James had formulated a dozen scenarios. Only one contained but a single Cabal agent. While that was the stealthiest option for them it was also the riskiest. His lips twitched, the Cabal really must have put all their eggs in the Ashley basket if they only had one operative in the area. He looked at the young indian woman appraisingly, plenty of raw talent, some training but mostly a lot of arrogance.

“Hey, I told you to move!” Kate took a threatening step forward.

The world stopped. James looked past her, to the battlefield he’d prepared. One more step and this delightful young lady would be in the zone. First: distraction. He’d taken off his cravat and tucked it loosely into the side pocket of the lab coat. Throw that in her face. One step, arm sweep, block the gun. Jab the elbow, nerve spasm, gun hits floor. Palm strike to the chest, step back, grab the positioned book, two-handed strike to the head. She’ll stagger back, dazed. She’ll attempt to block subsequent strike, throw book, follow with right haymaker, left uppercut. Probability of unconsciousness: 87%. If still on feet grab arm and rotate wrist, force to ground and restrain with cable tie pilfered from the computer wires. If on the ground, roll to front and then restrain.

Either way, subject neutralised.

James smiled.

“Move!” Kate took that last step.

Boom, distraction, block, jab, palm strike, book, head, throw, haymaker, uppercut.

It was over in seconds. Kate slumped to the floor, back against the wall cabinet, head lolling to her chest. James reached into his pocket for the cable tie and rolled her over, tying her hands together firmly.

“I’m sorry my dear,” James murmured. “I’ve never liked having to hit women.” He reached for the radio and brought it to his mouth. “One Cabal operative captured. I don’t believe there’s anymore.”

“They only sent the one?” Will’s disbelieving voice came over the radio.

“This was the Cabal’s backup plan Will,” Helen said, her voice crackling through the radio. “James-”

“I’m coming down,” Will announced. “Are you hurt Doctor Watson?”

“I think it is far more likely that our guest requires attention, Will. How badly did you hurt them James?” Helen asked.

“Unconscious, nothing more,” James reported. “I’d prepared for more combatants, one made the situation a lot easier than expected.”

His smile deepened. It had been years since he’d actually been in a fight, unless he counted all the running in Praxis yesterday. Declan MacRae, his number two at the London sanctuary, would probably be shocked he was capable. He’d been the old man behind the desk for so long that people had forgotten that occasionally his cases got physical and that he’d prepared for that. Arthur Conan Doyle had taken quite a few creative liberties but Holmes fighting prowess hadn’t been unduly enhanced.

It was nice to hear that Helen at least still had a modicum of faith. Although if anyone was going to believe that James Watson could fight, it would be the remaining members of The Five. They were the only ones who had lived long enough to remember that he could back up his mind with a well-placed fist if necessary.

He stared thoughtfully at the unconscious mercenary in front of him. When young Doctor Zimmerman got here he’d have him locate a gurney. They’d transport this young woman to a containment cell, strap her to a chair and wait for her to wake. James had more than a few questions for an agent of the Cabal. Mercenary or not hopefully she would be able to fill in a few of the distressing blanks. They’d been playing catch-up for too long.


	8. Chapter 8

“Doc she’s awake,” Henry said over the radio.

Helen picked her radio up. “Thank you Henry, I’ll be right there.”

Tiredly Helen rubbed at her eyes. Source blood stamina or not, the last forty-eight hours had been a lot and she wanted nothing more than a few hours shut-eye. Nikola and John had contained the SHU, though if Nikola hadn’t needed a new outfit before he definitely did by the time they were done. His shirt, which had holes in it already from Praxis, had been hanging off him in bloody strips. She’d prevailed upon Will to give him a shirt and Nikola had been too intent on getting back to the lab to make more than a couple of sarcastic remarks.

She’d stitched John’s deeper gashes and he’d retreated to her office, to brood and drink her whiskey. She still hadn’t had a chance to examine any of them for lingering effects from what had happened on Praxis. The moment Ashley had collapsed, her daughter had been her first priority. Helen gently brushed her finger against Ashley’s face and stood up. She’d run a full battery of tests and the Cabal’s meddling had soon become clear. They’d utilised a retro-virus to alter Ashley’s genetics, activating her father’s legacy, but it was unstable. Helen couldn’t be certain of course but she thought it likely that it was only intended to be temporary, and that if the Cabal had further plans for Ashley that would have happened after she’d returned to them with the source blood. Thank god they’d been spared that.

Helen made her way through the corridors to the room where the Cabal mercenary had been taken. When she arrived she found James and Will standing by the observation window. She glanced through the window herself. Their guest had a livid bruise forming on their cheek and another on their jaw.

“Would you like to start?” James asked.

Helen blinked. “Are you sure James?”

“You know I learn just as much from observation,” James reminded her.

“Alright.” Helen nodded.

She moved to the door and punched in the code. A beat later the locks disengaged and she entered the room. The young woman looked up at her. Helen wasn’t James but she could notice things too, like the relaxed posture. Their guest didn’t fear them. While Helen didn’t want to be feared, they were supposed to be a sanctuary for all and fear was anathema to that, they were dealing with an agent of the Cabal. No doubt she was scared of her employer which would make getting her to turn on them difficult.

James had already said she’d shown no sign of interest at the offer of more money. That either meant she was more loyal to the Cabal than she claimed, or that she was too afraid of them to contemplate betrayal. It was possible that she had integrity and simply didn’t go back on her word, but she was a mercenary and so that was unlikely.

“The Cabal, how can we find them?” Helen asked.

Kate rolled her eyes. “You guys aren't cops. You're not bad guys. You're not going to shoot me or arrest me. We're gonna go round and round and I'm gonna tell you jack, and then, I'm going to escape. It's a fun little game. Sure you wanna play?”

Helen gave the girl her best unimpressed look. “How about your name then?”

“Kate. Freelander. And yes, that is my real name even though it sounds made up. For the record, I'm not Cabal,” Kate said.

That was interesting. Helen turned and shared a glance with James. He’d caught it too. It seemed at every opportunity Kate Freelander liked to insist that she wasn’t Cabal. To Helen that kind of distancing smelled like guilt. Kate didn’t like what the Cabal did, not enough not to work for them, but enough that she rejected being linked to them.

“Ok you may not be Cabal, but you can still lead us to them,” Helen pointed out.

“Look. I would love to help you out, but business is business. Nothing personal.” Kate shrugged the best she could given how tightly Henry and Will had secured her to the chair.

“Nothing personal!” Helen said sharply, letting some real anger colour her tone. “They experimented on my daughter.”

For half a second Kate looked uncomfortable before her mask of feigned nonchalance came back down. “Look I’m sorry about that but there’s nothing I can do. Business is business.”

Helen nodded slowly and then turned. She left the room, the door locking shut behind her. “Well?” she arched an eyebrow at James.

“I think she’s been lying to herself for a long time. We might be able to use that,” James mused.

“I think-” Will started.

“Excuse me junior,” Nikola’s voice echoed from the ceiling.

Puzzled Helen looked up and then she spotted the box in the corner, one she’d almost forgotten about. It was the old intercom system. They hadn’t used it in years, not since the hand radios became much more reliable. That was just like Nikola to find it, and then use it to listen in.

“Do we really have the time to wait and hope Miss Cabal has a crisis of conscience? I’d say give Johnny five minutes with her. I’d volunteer but from what I’ve heard the Cabal keeps on hand, unfortunately I don’t think a glimpse of my fangs will do the trick.”

James looked thoughtful. “A viable option I suppose.”

“James,” Helen chided. “But on the other hand.”

“Are you two really considering letting Jack the Ripper torture her?” Will burst out, eyes wide.

Helen shared an amused glance with James. “I’d really have hoped that you knew me better than that by now.”

“John knows how to put on a good show,” James confirmed. “Admittedly his reputation usually does half the work. But then after a century we all have reputations that work for us.”

“Speak for yourself my dear James, or have you forgotten I’m dead,” Nikola snarked through the intercom. “My patents, my inventions stolen, history written by Edison.”

“Yes, we know Nikola,” James said with a long-suffering tone.

He reached into his pocket for the radio. “John, our guest isn’t feeling very talkative. Would you mind lending a hand?” A few seconds passed, and then a few more, and still no response. “John?”

“On my way,” John’s low voice finally came through the radio.

A crease formed in Helen’s brow. John could just be tired, they all were, but her gut said it was more than that. There was a hollowness to his tone, he sounded almost defeated, which wasn’t something she’d ever heard from him before. But then she supposed if the events of the last couple of days had brought up old memories for her, that the same would be true for John.

He’d apologised for what had happened with Ashley and, given Nikola had shocked him back to his senses since then, it was possible that he’d even meant it. It was possible that John was grappling with the same overwhelming emotions, due to their reunion, that she and James were. Helen didn’t know if John was actually capable of true remorse but he could still be mourning the life that never was.

A couple of minutes later Helen heard John’s heavy tread down the corridor, his long back coat swirled behind him. He certainly looked the part. Hopefully Kate Freelander would be convinced. Helen reached over and punched in the code, the door clicked and John brushed past her, barely pausing his stride as he entered.

“Shouldn’t we go in there with him?” Will asked hesitantly. “I mean in the ten seconds it would take for us to get in there-”

“John knows what he’s doing,” James murmured.

Helen nodded in silent agreement. Will looked very dubious but didn’t argue. Helen couldn’t blame his scepticism, they should probably be more cautious. Neither she nor James had a clear head when it came to John. Even now after everything he’d done, and more than a century had passed, she still loved him. James still loved him. She loved James and she thought that he probably still loved her. But love hurt and even after a century the wounds from John’s knife still bled.

How much of the John she’d loved remained in the monster he’d become, was something she’d tried not to allow herself to think about. Every time she’d started debating the question in her own mind she’d viciously shut it down. That way lay only madness. It would have been easier to believe that the man she’d loved was gone, but she never could make herself truly believe that. She wasn’t sure whether she should slap Nikola or kiss him for shocking John back to sanity.

“Miss Freelander, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Montague John Druitt, I don’t know if your Cabal superiors have mentioned me,” John began.

“Nope, never been told to watch out for tall, bald and ugly,” Kate said flippantly.

John smiled coldly. “History knew me by another name. Jack the Ripper, does that help?”

“Ok, make that tall, bald and crazy old I-”

John drew one of his long blades and felt the edge of it.

“Look even if I do buy that you’re a hundred year old serial killer, and I’ve seen crazier so sure, you’re not going to do anything to me. They aren’t going to let you,” Kate argued.

“Oh my dear.” John chuckled softly. “Why do you think they keep me around?”

“That hit home,” James commented.

“Mmm,” Helen hummed distractedly.

Her heart had clenched hearing John’s words. It was a little irrational but she hoped that he didn’t really believe that. He was more than a killer, more than a teleporter. Was he useful? Definitely. But even if he wasn’t, he’d still be John, and that had always been enough. She could only see the back of his head through the observation window, as he was facing their captive. She could usually read his body language but his heavy coat obscured it. Belatedly she wondered if that was one of the reasons he favoured it so much.

“The way I see it,” John continued. “Your only chance is to earn the favour of Doctor Helen Magnus. The Cabal has to know you’ve been captured by now, you know them, you’ve worked for them long enough to know what they do to people who’ve failed them.”

Kate looked appraisingly at John, her eyes flickering over to the observation window. Helen kept her face impassive. She had lived through two world wars, she wasn’t some naive child, she was capable of making the hard choices. She needed Kate to see that in her eyes, but even so this was a bluff. They would never actually let John hurt her, but if Kate believed they might it could loosen her tongue. All they needed was to start the conversation, it was clear that Kate Freelander wasn’t comfortable with the Cabal. Once she started talking, her own conscience would keep her talking.

Finally Kate shrugged. “Any port in a storm right? What do you want to know?”

James hummed in satisfaction. Helen leaned over to punch in the code and James opened the door, stepping inside.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” Will shook his head. “Terrorising a confession? This isn’t what I signed up for. You brought me here to talk to people, why didn’t you let me try?”

“Because Nikola was right,” Helen said firmly. “We don’t have the time, or have you forgotten the Cabal’s threat to release the Lazarus virus worldwide? That deadline is today. James thinks that it was just a threat and that the Cabal won’t really do it. He might be right but look at the chaos they’ve already caused. Their power has grown unchecked for two centuries. Two centuries they hid in the shadows. Doesn’t it worry you that they’ve finally decided to move publicly? Aren’t you concerned about what they plan to do?”

“Of course I am.” Will sighed. “It’s just I thought the Sanctuary was supposed to help people, not battle secret shadowy organisations. I feel like I’m in a Dan Brown novel.”

“The governments of the world allow us to operate because we can handle what they don’t understand - the abnormal community. The Cabal are the other side of that coin and very much rooted in our world. This is our problem Will, we have to solve it,” Helen ended gently, sensing that Will had understood.

She’d come to rely on him over the past few months. He was an asset to the Sanctuary but he was still so very young.

“Why don’t you go and help Henry, there’s still a lot of damage in the SHU,” Helen suggested.

Will nodded his head jerkily. “Alright.” He took one step down the corridor and then turned back. “If we wanted a Cabal facility what about the one Ashley and Henry found? How did they find that? You know I never actually asked.”

“Ashley’s black market contacts. The Cabal had a lot of red-list goods shipped there over the last month, that kind of thing doesn’t go unnoticed. And John already checked it. They must have started clearing out before Ashley even called us. There’s nothing there now,” Helen told him.

Will nodded. “Ok, well let me know if you learn anything I can help with.”

Helen smiled softly in acknowledgement and Will walked away. She turned back to the observation window before shaking her head and following Will down the corridor. James had it well in hand and Nikola was making good progress on the anti-virus. She knew Henry had done as instructed and altered their security protocols, and contacted his counterparts at the other Sanctuary's to do the same, in the light of Ashley being compromised. However, she had yet to speak with the other heads of houses herself.

As the leader of the Sanctuary network, as much as she longed to return to her daughter’s side, or even get a few hours shut-eye, duty came first. Helen snickered softly to herself. At least as James was already here she wouldn’t have to hear his complaining about the conference call she was about to make.

*****

An hour later and Helen called for a conference in her office.

She’d updated the other heads of houses with all the pertinent information, which had taken about five minutes, but then they’d discussed the Lazarus outbreak. She was confident that Nikola, with assistance from James, would have a cure very soon so they’d needed to organise logistics for distribution. The other heads were also keen to have a complement of doses at their Sanctuary’s just in case the Cabal released the virus again somewhere else. Fortunately manufacturing enough wasn’t going to be a problem. This was hardly the first drug the Sanctuary had needed to mass-produce, they had the contacts in place for that.

When finally the conference ended Helen had radioed James for an update. He’d finished questioning Kate Freelander, and was quite smug when she told him that she’d been stuck on the conference call the entire time. She’d countered by insisting he come straight to her office to discuss what he’d learned, and then she’d invited everyone else too. It was a council of war of sorts. It was time to take action against the Cabal, rather than just reacting to their plot.

John had already been in her office when she’d arrived. She’d held the conference call over the big monitors in the main concourse downstairs. He hadn’t moved from his perch in the corner armchair. She’d expected that he would get up and start pacing when Henry appeared but he didn’t, instead he seemed lost in thought. Henry hovered awkwardly, bouncing on the balls of his feet, clutching his tablet. James and Will arrived next; Will opted to lean against the wall by the fire again, and James leant against her desk. A moment later Helen decided to join him, it was friendlier than staying behind the desk. Then they waited.

“Do I have to be here for this?” Nikola asked as he strolled into Helen’s office five minutes later.

“As we want your full attention, yes,” Helen told him.

She knew what he was like, if they allowed him to attend via intercom he’d keep working. He’d blown up a lab in 1915 splitting his attention like that. Now admittedly he wasn’t working on electricity this time but still, better safe than sorry. She rather liked her lab how it was.

“Fine,” Nikola muttered, throwing himself into the armchair.

He brightened seeing the wine Helen had already poured for him, waiting on the side table. Helen’s lips twitched with amusement. She knew what he was like.

“James, what did you learn?” Helen opened.

“Some useful background. It bothered me that we only learned of the Cabal relatively recently, when you found the Morrigan. According to Miss Freelander that was by design. The Cabal purposefully hid themselves from the Sanctuary network until now. I think it’s safe to say they believe we’re their greatest threat,” James reported.

“But of course,” Nikola said grandiosely.

“Miss Freelander gave up an address for a warehouse. She also has a phone number for her Cabal handler, whom she believes to be relatively high up the food chain,” James continued. “Unfortunately that was all. I believe it likely she tried to remain as uninformed as possible out of self-preservation.”

“Well that’s not a problem so long as the Cabal facility has computers,” Henry volunteered. “If we can get into their system…”

“Email.” James smirked. “Send an email blast of a special offer to their entire network, that would allow you to infect the devices, of anyone who clicked on the offer, with some kind of intelligence gathering virus, would it not?”

Henry’s jaw dropped. Helen couldn’t help but grin at his stupefied look. She’d always known why James preferred the telegram, even agreed with him about the security of it. The problem was everyone else used email so she didn’t have much of a choice, part of the burden of command. It would be poetic if they could use email as a weapon against the Cabal, James would feel vindicated.

“That’s actually genius,” Henry said. “Not that I’m surprised, I mean you are a genius doc obviously,” he added hastily. “It’s just you know you and computers I didn’t, but no it’s cool, excellent idea.” Henry pressed his lips together firmly.

“Well it seems like you have everything in hand,” Nikola drawled.

“Shame Nigel isn’t here,” John murmured.

Helen bowed her head. Nigel had always been useful in these situations, his ability to get in and out of anywhere unseen made him the perfect spy. In the first war he’d often been paired with John, the two of them had made quite a team. When the government had first come to them in 1909, to contract them to deal with Adam Worth, Helen had known that was only the beginning. It was natural that the government would want to make use of them.

They’d done their duty for the wars and then said no more. Fortunately the United Nations had been founded, and as the Sanctuary network had ambitions to be global, it made more sense for the UN to be their official backer as opposed to the British government. Time had done the rest. It was unlikely the current Prime Minister had any idea The Five had ever existed, let alone that four of them still lived.

“We all need to agree Nikola.” Helen looked over at Will, remembering his misgivings from earlier. “If we’re going to war with the Cabal, it has to be with our eyes wide open.”

“Yes, yes.” Nikola absently waved his free hand, holding the wine glass with the other. “But we’re not at war yet. We’re still gathering information. Once we know their network, the locations of their facilities, the people in charge, where they keep the money - then we can discuss destroying them. Until then.” He got to his feet, drained the wine glass and replaced it on the table. “I’m returning to the lab.”

“I’ll join you in a few hours,” James said, grimacing lightly. “I’m afraid I need sleep first.”

“Well I had heard the elderly need their rest,” Nikola taunted. “Not to worry, I’m sure my genius will be enough.”

With a final teasing grin Nikola strolled back out of the room. John growled low in his throat. Helen looked at him curiously but he said nothing. Maybe it was the quip about James’ age, John had always been sensitive to that since they’d discovered, soon after taking the source, that she’d gained the power of longevity and so had Nikola - but the rest of them hadn’t. John had promised _‘for all eternity’_ but time would have made that a lie.

She’d had that in mind when he’d taken ill, she’d given him her blood, which was the standard treatment but she’d hoped it would have a very non-standard effect. As he was still with them, and hadn’t aged unduly, it obviously had imparted a measure of her gift to him. Why it had worked with John but had no effect on James Helen had no idea. It obviously also wasn’t permanent or he wouldn’t have come to her those months ago to get another vial of her blood.

Truthfully none of them knew how long they really had, and as they weren’t invulnerable even she didn’t have forever. One day her luck would run out, it nearly had in Praxis. They had actually died. After everything they’d been through, all the battles they’d fought, it seemed that this must be their greatest challenge - their darkest hour. Which was fitting as it had brought them all together after sixty years.

Helen lightly shook her head. She must be even more tired than she thought to have her thoughts running wild like this. It seemed they could all benefit from a few hours sleep. Henry and Will had been up most of the night too and they didn’t have the benefit of the source blood to enhance their stamina.

“I think we should all get some rest,” Helen suggested. She looked at Henry. “Do you think you can have something ready for tomorrow morning?”

“Sure doc,” Henry agreed quickly. “With time for a few hours shut-eye too.”

“Good.” Helen nodded. “We’ll reconvene again in the morning, 9am.”


	9. Chapter 9

When James walked into the bedroom, and closed the door firmly behind him, he finally let all pretenses drop. He believed firmly in good posture but his shoulders slumped as he surveyed the room. He shrugged his jacket off and draped it over the arm of the chair by the window, and then shuffled the last few feet to the bed. Sighing heavily he sat down, his eyes drifting closed. Perhaps Nikola had a point, it hadn’t been easy keeping up with the rest of them, or maybe they felt just as tired and were equally as busy hiding it.

James groaned lightly and wincing leaned down to untie his shoes. He kicked them off and then leaned back to finally, blissfully lie down. He was still fully dressed, he was laying on top of the covers, but this was a two hour nap, or at least that was the excuse he was going with. He closed his eyes again.

A minute later his eyes snapped open. He focused on the ceiling, on the coving and on how heavy his body felt. He tried to picture himself drifting, hell he’d even count bloody sheep if he thought it would work. This was always the way. It didn’t matter how physically exhausted he felt, his mind would simply not shut off, and the high emotions of the last couple of days were just making it worse. Devoid of distraction, his mind kept drifting to John, to Helen, to the bloody mess that had become their lives.

It was his biggest regret that he hadn’t been able to make it work with Helen without John. He was under no illusion as to why, she’d told him between her tears one night, and he’d held her and promised that they would always be friends. He’d told her that he understood and that he felt the same way. She couldn’t live with his pain as well as her own. The pain was a tangible physical thing between them, the ragged tear in their hearts where John used to be. He’d blamed himself for not spotting John’s descent into madness earlier, Helen had blamed herself because she thought it was her blood that had driven him mad.

There was no such agony in life as loving somebody deeply, and not being able to be with them. But then what about the agony of being alone? Being together hurt because they remembered, but the memories were still just as sharp in the dark of the night, only there was nobody to turn to for comfort. He’d been a coward, he should have fought for her but he’d respected her decision too much to argue. They’d retreated and put up barriers to protect themselves. _‘Time is a great healer’_ he’d said to young William and he guessed he’d hoped that would be the case, hoped that in time they would be reunited - as indeed they had.

James sighed. There was no use dwelling on the waste of the past century. Nobody could change the past. They could forge a new future. He didn’t know if Helen would be receptive to his advances but he wasn’t going to leave Old City this time without trying. They’d spent too long being alone, being miserable, and he didn’t want that anymore. He had a new lease of life, potentially another sixty years to live, and damn it he was determined to live them.

John was another matter. James missed him fiercely and always would but some things could never be forgiven. _‘Time is a great healer ... but redemption requires a little more’_ and there was nothing John could say or do that could make up for what he had done. It hurt and it always would, and it was made even more difficult because James didn’t know how to let him go. A century had passed and he still didn’t know how to move on. That was the problem with falling in love, you could only give your heart away once and John had taken half of his a lifetime ago. It would always belong to him.

Groaning James forced his eyes shut. Perhaps if he tried to think about something else then he could get the peace he needed to sleep. Occasionally that worked. Maybe if he tried immersing himself in a happy memory, using his mind to recall all the details of the moment, then it would distract him from the mess of today. Decision made James cast his mind back, because really there was only one choice given the single-track his mind was determined to follow. That fateful day that four became five as Doctor Helen Magnus walked into their lives.

She’d been something of a novelty, so they’d all been glad for the chance to talk with her. Afterwards John had claimed love at first sight, he could be romantic like that. James had certainly appreciated Helen’s strength, how she didn’t swoon at their attention, how she wasn’t shy about her opinions and gave as good as she got in banter. He was reasonably certain that’s why Nikola had liked her too, but in the end Helen had chosen John and then she had also chosen him. Maybe one day, after they were gone, and Nikola was still there she would choose him too. James didn’t like to think about that but ultimately Helen’s happiness was what mattered.

He growled low in his throat, and tried by sheer strength of will to push away such maudlin thoughts, and instead focus on the day where it all began.

*****

_~ Flashback ~  
_ _Oxford University, 1886_

They were an unlikely group. John had grown up in relative privilege, as his father was a physician, for all that he was attending Oxford on a scholarship. Nigel came from far more humble origins, his father was a dockworker. It should have been his destiny to remain uneducated but as a boy he’d taught himself enough that he’d drawn notice, and in the spirit of noblesse oblige he’d had his education sponsored.

Nikola wasn’t even British, he was Serbian, and had never volunteered how he was paying for Oxford. As for James himself his family was well-to-do and unlike John he was the only son, his father had passed away when he was a small boy but their investments would allow him to live comfortably for the rest of his life. Not that he intended to rest on his laurels, that was why he was at Oxford, he intended to make something of himself.

The four of them had been placed in the same student digs. They might have just remained on nodding terms, as they came and went, if they hadn’t also shared the majority of their classes. It had been convenient to study together and that had led to respecting each other’s minds, and then to genuine friendship despite, or perhaps because, of their differences. James glanced over at John and felt his lips curve with fondness. In John’s case it had led to more than just friendship.

They were in the square, as was their habit, waiting for the afternoon bell to be rung calling them to the lecture. As Oxford students they endeavoured to be well-bred young men, and so they avoided the manicured grass that was cut into four curved segments around the central fountain. The same couldn’t be said for all their fellows, exiting the square was another test of manners. There were several narrow, low doorways cut into the four walls, John had to duck his head to go through most of them. It could take some time for the square to empty, which is why there was a warning bell, because you had to line up and file out in an orderly fashion.

John was leaning casually against the golden sandstone of the building's wall, just a few feet away from the door they would soon need to use. His long hair was partially escaping it’s tie and falling onto his face shadowing his eyes. As James watched John laughed softly at something Nigel had said. Really, he had no right to look quite so gorgeous in public when they were bound by the rules of propriety.

Tearing his eyes away James looked to Nikola and Nigel, they were perched on the rise that elevated the narrow path and building entrances from the square. Nikola was showing Nigel some of his notes from their last anatomy class. It had been a dreadful bore. James shifted closer, peering down to look at the notes himself, and a laugh of his own escaped. Nikola’s annotations were quite improper but certainly far more entertaining than what old Pemberton had been droning on about.

“Oh my, would you look at that,” John murmured.

James followed his gaze and blinked in surprise. A woman had just stepped out of one of the doors adjacent to where they were waiting - a very beautiful woman. She was wearing a blue dress, her blonde curls styled sensibly and appropriate to someone of a privileged background. She was accompanied by old Humphrey’s, the admissions secretary, who looked very ill at ease and as if he had encountered a foul smell.

“There was a rumour women would be permitted to audit classes after the committee rejected the proposal that women could enrol,” Nikola said, surprise colouring his tone. “They did not say they would be so lovely.”

James didn’t know if it’s because they were staring but suddenly Humphreys was heading in their direction, leading the woman to them.

“Ah gentleman, this is Doctor Magnus,” Humphreys said, sounding very aggrieved. “Her father, Doctor Gregory Magnus, has petitioned that we permit her to audit classes.” He pursed his lips and James struggled to keep the amusement off his face at the man’s impotent outrage. “I believe the four of you cover all of the classes in question. I trust you will conduct yourselves as gentlemen and escort her as required.”

John jumped down from the walkway, so that he was standing opposite Humphreys. “It would be our pleasure Mr Humphreys,” he agreed smoothly.

Humphreys lip curled. He bowed his head. “Then I bid you good day.”

James watched him scurry away, moving as fast as dignity allowed. He looked appraisingly at this female doctor. It was highly improper for her to be in the company of four unrelated men without a chaperone, but then it was highly improper for a woman to attend classes at Oxford. It was incredibly rare for a woman to become a physician. It seemed Doctor Magnus had little use for the restrictions that usually governed her sex and would do as she pleased. He liked her already.

“Montague John Druitt,” John introduced, holding out his hand.

Her eyes narrowed but she permitted him to take hers. John bent his head and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. Not to be outdone Nikola slipped off the wall to his feet and gave a gaelic bow.

“Nikola Tesla.” Nikola gestured to Nigel. “Nigel Griffin and James Watson.”

Nigel stood awkwardly and James offered a nod when he was named.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” she said politely.

“You know our names…” Nikola trailed off meaningfully.

“And you have mine. Doctor Magnus will do.” She looked over at the notebook clutched in Nikola’s hand. “Are those your class notes, may I see?”

“I don’t think that-” Nigel started.

“It’s not really very proper,” John argued.

With a slightly calculating look Nikola handed her the notebook. John was clearly worried she would be scandalised, and Nigel was probably concerned about his reputation. If a complaint was made then he would face far more consequences than the rest of them. Nikola was doing what he did best, experimenting, looking for a reaction. James thought he was likely to be disappointed as someone who had broken so many precedents already was unlikely to be phased by a few crude jokes.

Her eyebrow raised as she scanned the page. “Very interesting Mr Tesla-”

“Nikola please,” Nikola interrupted with a charming smile.

“Though your penmanship requires work, unless you meant to falsely label the vastus lateralis as the gluteus maximus.” She ignored him, as if he hadn’t spoken, and handed him his notebook back.

Nikola frowned, looking down at his scribbled, half-made up terms for the different muscle groups. John peered over his shoulder and barked with laughter. Nikola shot him an annoyed look.

“She has you there old boy.” John smirked.

The bell sounded and she nodded her head. “Gentleman, I’ll see you in class.” She turned and started to walk away.

Nigel snickered. “Well I’d say you really impressed her Tesla.”

“A minor matter,” Nikola said haughtily, though he looked a bit disgruntled for a moment.

“I’d say she isn’t going to be charmed,” James commented.

“No,” Nikola said thoughtfully, visibly brightening. “A rare woman, a challenge.”

“Time for class,” James interjected before John could respond because if he and Nikola started bickering they really would be late. “I don’t think we want to keep Doctor Magnus waiting.”

_~ End Flashback ~_

*****

John was a creature of the night so he was no stranger to grabbing a few hours sleep during the daylight hours. The prey he’d stalked came out at night - the night was for the hunt. He lay still on the bed, he’d stripped off his coat and kicked off his shoes but he’d eschewed the covers. It hadn’t felt right to actually go to bed like nothing was wrong. The curtains were firmly shut blocking out most of the light; a little leaked through the top, enough that the room wasn’t pitch black, instead full of shadows which was very apt. He’d been living in the shadows of the world for a hundred and twenty years, the closest he’d come to being part of it was during the Wars, because there was always room for men like him in war.

Helen’s whiskey buzzed through his veins but it wasn’t enough to silence the voices. This was hardly the first time he’d been tormented this way. It had been more common at the beginning, the worst time being after the first death of Mary Ann Nichols. He’d teleported away from that horrified at what he had done. He’d scrubbed the blood from his hands until, in true Hamlet fashion, he was scraping the skin. He hadn’t understood what had come over him, he’d avoided both Helen and James, he’d barely slept, barely ate.

Just a week later he’d found himself again scrubbing the blood off his hands, Annie Chapman, his second victim. After that he’d tried to take better care of himself, concerned that his fatigue had aided the loss of control, but it had been for nothing. It had felt like it wasn’t him in those moments, like he was just a vessel for the rage, a puppet to someone else’s bloodlust.

To this day he didn’t know why he hadn’t gone to Helen and James and confessed. Maybe it was the shame, or maybe it was something deeper? Could the compulsion that made him kill also have compelled him to remain silent? To say nothing even as James talked of the Ripper case and he dissected James’ suppositions.

He’d killed seven whores in Whitechapel before Helen confronted him, the eighth as she watched, and then he’d teleported away. Moving from place to place there was no media furore over a serial killer again. He found that the rage demanded blood but it could be satisfied by less. The killings grew less brutal and he got it down to maybe ten a year. He learned to recognise the signs of when it was going to overtake him and he gave into it, on his terms, rather than losing all control as he had with his first murders.

Over the past century the voices grew quieter because what did a monster need with a conscience? In the sixty years since he’d last seen any of The Five they had grown so faint he’d thought they’d gone for good - and then Tesla had shocked him back to his senses. With lucidity the voices returned with a vengeance but he still hadn’t felt much guilt about all the murders. The dead were dead, he’d saved his guilt for Helen and James, and Ashley the daughter he’d never known. Their first meeting he’d risked her life just to blackmail Helen? That was something he could never undo, something he could never make right.

And then Praxis.

Waking up after dying was … strange. He’d felt like something was missing but there hadn’t been time to think about it. They still had a mission to complete, Helen and James had needed him, and it wasn’t until he was facing a Praxian soldier that he’d known the truth. He couldn’t kill him, he couldn’t even bring himself to injure him. The thought of spilling that man’s blood made him nauseous. Fortunately, after a century he had developed enough skills that it hadn’t proved necessary. He’d rationalised it as not wanting to disappoint Helen and James, that he didn’t want them to see that side of him again if he could help it.

Returning to the Sanctuary he’d had nothing but time to think. He’d not kept up with scientific developments the way the other three had, so he was singularly useless in working with the source blood to develop a cure. He’d hoped that the fight in the SHU would make him feel more like himself but it had done the opposite. It was undeniable now that something was different. He had all his skills but the killer instinct was gone. Only the guilt remained. This time not just for those he loved, but for those he’d killed. Their faces, those he remembered, paraded in front of his eyes.

He’d told James that he’d been in the grip of something he couldn’t control. It was always a feeling that he’d had, for all that he’d wondered on occasion if that was just him trying to avoid responsibility. Now he was certain that it was true. Something had hold of him and it had let go in Praxis, it had been released when he’d died. He’d tried to tell Helen and James since they’d got back but they’d both shut him down before he could. He wasn’t certain that they’d believe him anyway and even if they did, what difference would it make? He was at a loss to explain what force had held him so tight and compelled him to kill, and it was still him that had done those things.

It had still been him.

 _‘For God's sake it was you!’_ James had spat at him. There was no coming back from that. There could be no forgiveness. The only reason he hadn’t ended things, finally granting justice to every poor soul who had met their end at the hands of his blade, was because he could still make a difference. The Cabal were threatening a war, Helen and James would never bow to them, and he loved them far too much to let them stand alone. Quite frankly it was the least he could do.

John rolled over onto his side, so he wasn’t staring at the ceiling anymore but was instead looking at the empty side of the bed. If none of it had happened then that side wouldn’t be empty, it would have Helen, or James, or both. His hand brushed the empty space and he pressed his lips together firmly, swallowing the pang of grief. It had been him that had done this, that had stolen that life from them.

He just wished he understood why. What had overcome him? What had compelled him to kill and why was that compulsion now gone? More chillingly, would it return? He’d still felt the coldness inside of him even after Tesla had given him his sanity back, but now there was nothing. He knew Helen’s theory that it had been her blood which had driven him mad, but her blood hadn’t left him in Praxis. No it had been his soul and then they’d been reborn. Was it that simple? No it still didn’t explain what had caused it.

Would answers stop the guilt? Stop him from seeing the pain he’d caused everytime he closed his eyes? Stop the accusing voices replaying his worst memories? It was like he couldn’t decide how much to blame himself. Was he just looking for an excuse? After all it had still been him and there was no getting away from that.

“Stop it,” John growled, grounding his palm into his temple.

He was bone-tired, weary in a way he hadn’t felt in decades if ever. Sleep would be a blessing, if he could manage a few hours without nightmares that is, but he had to be able to relax enough to drift off and that wasn’t going to be easy. Tesla was totally resistant to alcohol and drugs, they just had zero effect on him. Fortunately that wasn’t true for the rest of them, but all of The Five had found that they had a certain resistance, that was what had helped him overcome the sedatives the night he’d invaded the Sanctuary.

If he took enough then it could overcome his tolerance but he’d have needed far more whiskey than he had drunk for that. He hadn’t wanted to worry Helen so had limited his consumption, and also at any moment something could happen and he wanted a clear-head when dealing with the Cabal. So he couldn’t even turn to the old standby coping mechanism. It had always been a double-edged sword anyway as if he did manage to drug himself out of his mind, there had been times when he’d woken covered in blood with very little memory of what he had done - that had been worse, because imagination and wondering is always worse. He didn’t think he’d snap and do anything violent, but it just kept circling back to the fact that he didn’t know what had compelled him to begin with. He knew it was gone but he didn’t know for certain that it wouldn’t return.

Thoughts of James and Helen were like poison. He ached for them fiercely. There was seriously nothing he wanted more than to stand up, leave this room, walk a handful of steps down the hall to the room James had taken and knock, or go to the room at the end of the hall that was Helen’s. He craved their comfort so he could almost imagine seeing them would be like drinking a glass of cool water on a hot summer's day. The reality though was very different. Neither James, nor Helen, would welcome him and they would offer no comfort. The James, and Helen, that had loved him had been left behind in the 19th century, they were now into the 21st.

All he had left were memories and did he even have a right to those?

After everything he’d done was it wrong to recall the times they’d had before Whitechapel? Before he’d ruined everything? He could still remember the day he’d first laid eyes on Helen, in the square at Oxford, he’d been immediately enchanted. She was beautiful yes; but it was the core of steel she’d had, to get where she was, which drew him like a moth to the flame. His first meeting with James was far more prosaic, he didn’t actually remember it, nor did he really remember clearly much of what followed.

He recalled studying together, often alongside Griffin and Tesla. He wasn’t certain when he’d first noticed James looking at him, though he did recall being afraid that James’ appraisal was because he’d noticed his own lingering glances. As time had passed and James hadn’t confronted him for his deviance he’d relaxed, and started to wonder if maybe James had an interest himself. That question had become almost an obsession because by then James wasn’t just an attractive man, he was his best friend, and that only made him want him more.

What he did remember clearly was the night they’d finally crossed the line, and committed gross indecency together for the first time. John snorted at the thought. Even though he’d been born in that era, he still thought that classing consensual intimate activity between two men as gross indecency was ridiculous. The real gross indecency was married men pawing at whores but that had always been far more acceptable to society. No, what he and James had was never indecent.

*****

_~ Flashback ~  
_ _Oxford University, 1886_

The hour was late, and they were being much too loud, but John couldn’t bring himself to care. It was saturday night, the first weekend of reading week, and unlike a lot of their contemporaries they were staying at Oxford. For the past few days they’d listened to their fellows detail their plans, to return home and see their families, or to travel so far as one could within a week. Nigel couldn’t afford to go anywhere, any family Tesla had was back in Serbia and therefore out of reach.

John could have returned to the family home but found himself disinclined, especially once James had confirmed he wasn’t going to make the trip to London. John had thought he would, as the dutiful only son, and his mother a widow, but James had claimed he couldn’t afford the travel time, as he had far too much studying to do. However, studying seemed to be the last thing on James’ mind right now. He had certainly eagerly agreed to the suggestion of a night on the town, as small compensation given their lack of holiday plans.

They had imbibed far too much alcohol and were being rowdy ruffians, rather than well-bred scholars. James kept stumbling so it was natural for John to put his arm around him, and they walked far closer than decorum would otherwise permit back to their student digs.

“Shush, shush,” Nigel giggled when he opened the door.

Tesla laughed pushing past him. “Who wants another drink? I have a bottle of a passable red in my room.”

“Wine?” James wrinkled his nose. “We’re not at dinner. I have a bottle of whiskey we-”

Bang. Nigel’s foot caught on the second step of the stairs and he fell forward, sliding back down. John snorted with laughter which set them all off.

“I think Griffin has had enough,” John said fondly. “We should probably retire before we wake the master.”

Tesla extended his hand and hauled Nigel to his feet, steadying him as Nigel attempted the stairs again. John waited until they were at the top before he nudged James to make the climb. The stairs were a little steep and narrow at the best of times, which was all the trickier after indulging as they had. James didn’t seem like he would fall but John kept a hand against his back anyway, resting it slightly lower than was strictly decent. He could feel James’ warmth through the wool of his trousers, the edge of his jacket brushed against the back of his hand as James moved.

It was a tantalising torment. James was an attractive man but it wasn’t just his looks that drew John to him now - it was that he was _James_. They regularly engaged in a battle of wits. James had the most brilliant mind and John enjoyed sparring with him. James had such a dry sense of humour, which always made him laugh, and he was honorable. It was obvious that James had the most money out of the four, but he never flaunted it or made Nigel feel lesser for his humble origins. John wished he could say his own family had that level of tact but his fathers arrogance, and narrowmindedness, was the reason he didn’t like to go home. If his father had any idea that his son had romantic feelings for another man he’d be disowned in a heartbeat.

“Turn left, old boy,” John murmured, taking James’ arm and steering him to the doorway of his room when he looked like he was going to stagger right past it.

The doors to the individual rooms didn’t have locks so John just turned the handle and tugged James into his own room. Once they were inside James kicked the door closed behind them and leaned against it with a smile. John felt his stomach swoop. Did James have any idea how gorgeous he looked at that moment? He hadn’t closed the curtains before he’d gone out so the room was dimly lit from the moon and stars. It made everything softer and made him far too tempted to do something he probably shouldn’t.

James brushed past him reaching for the matches on the desk. He struck one and lit the lantern and then moved to tug the curtains closed. John swallowed, if anything that had made it worse, the flicker of the golden candlelight, shutting the world out, creating a cosy nest for the two of them. He shook his head, trying to banish the tempting thoughts, James was his friend and intimate acts between men were illegal. If he made an overture to James and he was offended it wouldn’t just ruin their friendship, it could ruin his entire life.

John’s eyes narrowed as suddenly his mind caught up with his eyes and he realised what was wrong with the picture in front of him. For the last couple of streets up to the digs he’d supported James as he kept stumbling, but now they were in his room James was moving with his usual brisk economy of motion. As he watched James looked over and smiled at him again.

“Nightcap Druitt?” James asked, reaching into the desk drawer and pulling out half a bottle of whiskey.

“I had thought you’d had enough,” John said with feigned casualness.

James snorted. “Nigel perhaps, but don’t worry I still have all my faculties.” He pulled a tumbler from the drawer and poured a generous measure. “Sit.”

The bed was up against the wall in one corner of the narrow room. James sat across the bed, back up against the long wall. Hesitantly John moved to sit beside him and James hummed with approval. James took a sip of the whiskey and then held out the glass, he clearly meant for them to share. John looked at him, at the soft smile, at the dimples his neatly trimmed beard didn’t quite hide, at the warmth in his eyes, and he took the glass. He threw it back, relishing the slight burn of the whiskey in his throat as he finished the glass.

He’d been looking at James almost from the start. Several weeks ago in the library he’d almost had a heart attack when he’d realised James was looking at him. He’d thought that James had noticed him sneaking glances, but James hadn’t said a word, and since then he’d had idle thoughts that maybe James had just been looking at him. Maybe they were looking at each other? It was a dangerous line of thinking which was why he’d tried not to dwell on it too deeply.

James chuckled. “Pour another then, seeing as you’ve finished that one.”

John leant forward, stretching so that he could push the glass onto the desk opposite, and then he sat back. He twisted, shifting a little closer to James and put his hand against his chest, above the waistcoat, near where his heart was. He paused for a moment, gaze fixed on James’ expression, looking for any hint of concern or confusion or God forbid disgust. But all he could see was warmth and so John bent his head, moving slowly until he could feel James’ breath against his lips and then he pressed his lips against James’.

For one heart-stopping moment there was nothing and then suddenly James was kissing him back. James’ hand moved to the back of his head, tangling in his ponytail, holding him in place like there was anywhere else he wanted to be. James’ beard was softer against his skin than he’d thought, and John would be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined this. After a moment he needed air so John reluctantly pulled back.

“Thank you,” James breathed. John frowned and James’ hand moved to cup his cheek. “For being brave enough.”

John’s heart clenched and he wondered how long James had wanted him to kiss him, and worse how close he’d come to chickening out. “Thank God for dutch courage,” John murmured before leaning down to kiss him again.

Best risk he’d ever taken.

_~ End Flashback ~_


	10. Chapter 10

In the end James had slept for more than a couple of hours. It probably qualified as early evening by the time he returned to the lab, a fact that Nikola blessedly didn’t comment on. Instead Nikola had just succinctly summarised everything he’d learned in the last few hours, and the current status of the experiments, and James realised with a slight pang that Nikola didn’t actually need him at all. It had been tempting to dismiss Nikola’s comments as nothing more than ego but any arrogance was deserved. Nikola didn’t quite have a cure but he was close, within a day he’d have something ready for trial.

“It would have been easier with you James,” Nikola commented offhandedly, pointedly looking down at his test tubes.

James smiled. He knew that if he responded that Nikola would deny that he’d ever said anything, his friend liked to pretend to be aloof, and James could grant him that illusion. Along with perhaps Nikola’s favoured armor. The navy shirt that young William had lent him was too big, too soft and too crumpled for Nikola. The trousers were his own but stained with dirt from the flight from Praxis. Nikola liked to be well-turned out, given everything he’d accomplished here it was the least they could do.

“I’m sure Old City has at least one decent shop. Write down your sizes and I’ll ask William to get you some clean clothes,” James offered.

Nikola snorted. “Living in London has coddled you James. Decent tailors are a rarity. Still I suppose anything would be an improvement.”

He grabbed the notebook from the desk beside him and flipped the page, scribbled a few numbers and then tore the sheet off, holding it out for James to take.

“A new outfit might even make up for the lack of sleep,” James said casually. “Even you need to sleep Nikola.”

“When the job is done,” Nikola allowed, non-committedly. He shot James a grin. “Until then copious amounts of wine. Speaking of, I could use a new bottle.”

He nodded in the direction of the bin and James’ eyebrows shot up at the collection of empties Nikola had already amassed. James chuckled softly. Helen kept a well-stocked wine cellar, knowing Nikola, he had probably taken it as a challenge to empty it before he left.

“I’ll see to it,” James promised. “I’ll just go and check on Henry’s progress.”

“I’ll be here,” Nikola muttered absently, attention now almost entirely back on the readouts in front of him.

James slipped out of the lab. He felt much better after some sleep, the extra stolen hours had done him some good. His stride was strong and certain, no trace of the shaky rubbery ache that had plagued him last night. That would no doubt return in time after he exerted himself but for now he relished the returned strength he felt. He weaved his way through the Sanctuary corridors until he emerged in the main concourse. Henry was spinning idly on his chair when he arrived, flicking what looked like some kind of confectionary into the air and catching it with his mouth.

“Oh hey doc,” Henry greeted.

He cleared his throat and sat up straight, causing a fond smile to stretch across James’ face. Henry was basically Helen’s adopted son and so to James he would always be something akin to a favourite nephew. The times might be dark but there was always a little glimmer of light, and normality to be found, when looking at family.

“Gummy bear?” Henry offered, holding out the packet.

“No thank you,” James declined hastily.

Henry shrugged as if to say suit yourself. “The worm’s coming on nicely. I’m building it from scratch because if the Cabal has any sense they’ll be running anti-virus. Now, not a lot of people know this but the software can only find what it knows about, that’s why it’s always updating. So we hit them with something completely new and they’ll never find it.”

“Excellent.” James patted his shoulder. “Will John be able to install it?”

“Erm maybe?” Henry said uncertainty. “I mean it depends on their security. I can make it auto-unpack when he plugs the USB in, but would he notice if their system doesn’t like the flash drive?”

“I’ll suggest that he transports you and you can take care of it,” James decided. “Are you waiting for something?”

“Yeah it’s compiling.” Henry nodded. “Why, need something?”

“Nikola needs another bottle of wine,” James said fondly. He reached into his pocket for the paper Nikola had given him. “Oh and when you see William, ask him to find a decent tailor in Old City.”

“Got it.” Henry took the slip of paper and tucked it into his jeans pocket. “The docs in her office if you’re looking for her.”

“Thank you.” James clapped him on the shoulder again and then turned and headed for the lift.

If Helen was in her office he hoped that meant Ashley was on the mend. Although Helen could have been pulled from her daughter's side by duty, as the leader of the Sanctuary network she was the one that ultimately everyone would be looking to for reassurance. The Cabal clearly hadn’t launched their threatened worldwide attack, he would have been woken up for that. They had trained their people well, in the event of a crisis the various Sanctuary’s knew what to do. It was the lull before the storm, the uncertainty about what was to come, which turned otherwise competent individuals into scared children.

James knocked on Helen’s office door. She looked up from her desk and smiled warmly.

“James, come in.”

“No John?” James checked as he crossed the office to stand in front of Helen’s desk.

She shook her head. “No I haven’t seen him.”

James hummed thoughtfully, he hadn’t been certain whether he’d find John here or not. It seemed to depend on John’s mood whether he avoided them, or sought them out. Given how withdrawn John had been since their return from Praxis James wasn’t surprised at his absence. He ran his knuckles along the wood of the desk thoughtfully. There was a lot he wanted to say, the decision he’d made earlier was practically begging him to seize this opportunity, because who knew when he’d find Helen alone again? But now really wasn’t the time, as they were still dealing with the Cabal mess, but then was any time actually going to be a good time? About the only constant with the Sanctuary was that there was always something happening.

“How’s Ashley?” James asked.

“Better,” Helen said simply, the relief stark on her face. “I had hoped that it would just take time for the Cabal’s meddling to fade. As doctors we want to cure but sometimes it just requires patience. I’ll leave her in the coma another day just to be certain but no more than that, or it’ll start to cause problems of its own.”

“That’s great news Helen,” James said softly, reaching across the desk to brush his fingers over the back of her hand.

She stiffened at the touch and her eyes met his, her gaze was searching and he hoped that his was reassuring. He didn’t know what she was hoping to see, or hoping not to see, but they’d waited long enough. There was never going to be a good time for this conversation but it was a century overdue. He wasn’t willing to wait any longer.

“Sit with me?” James entreated softly.

“James,” Helen said uncertainly, a warning note in her voice.

“None of us know how long we have Helen. For Gods sake we died yesterday,” James said emphatically. He could see the hint of pain creep into her eyes at his words, that would usually make him stop but not today. “I never stopped loving you-”

“And I never stopped loving you,” Helen interrupted, yanking her hand back, she shot to her feet making her chair rocket back away from her. “Love was never the problem James.”

“It hurts just as much alone Helen,” James said softly. “Only there’s no-one to turn to in the dark of the night for comfort. I don’t want to be alone and miserable any longer, do you?”

“This isn’t a good time,” Helen choked out, striding for the doorway.

James watched her go, he didn’t try and stop her and he didn’t run after her. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure her, he’d always had far too much respect for her for that. However, if Helen thought this conversation was over then she was mistaken. He would always respect it if she said no, but she hadn’t said no, she’d just avoided the issue. Until she said no he wasn’t going anywhere. Declan would make an excellent head of house, there was no need for him to rush back to London, or indeed return at all, apart from gathering his belongings, if Helen said yes.

If she said yes.

He rapped his knuckles on the wood and then turned to lean against the desk. He should probably return to the lab, just because Nikola was perfectly capable of working solo didn’t mean he should have to. James took a deep breath as his mind drifted to John. He wasn’t sure how John would feel if he and Helen reunited. The John he’d fallen in love with would have been pleased, as he would have wanted them to be happy even if it was without him. The John who had become a monster was more of a question mark. It would really depend on whether John’s better angels prevailed or not, but either way it didn’t alter James’ resolve. They’d just cross that bridge when they came to it - if they came to it.

James headed for the door. Today he’d work on the cure. Hopefully by this time tomorrow he’d have a lot of information on the Cabal to dig through, enough to begin to form a strategy to defeat them. If the Cabal thought the Sanctuary was their biggest enemy, it really would be a shame to not prove them right.

*****

Helen stormed away from her office, stoking the embers of fury, because righteous anger was so much easier to deal with. It was for nothing though and tears prickled at the corner of her eyes.

“How dare he?” she hissed under her breath.

She rounded the corner and realised she had no idea where she was going. She’d just left, having been chased out of her normal retreat, and now she didn’t know where to go. The sitting room was just up ahead so Helen headed there, pushing the door closed with a satisfying click. She leant back against the door and pinched her nose, battling the tears back. She couldn’t deal with this, not now, maybe not ever.

Although on the other hand it was gratifying to know that James still returned her feelings, even after all this time. She’d taken lovers over the last century, a one night stand here and there, or an occasional repeat booty call when she found someone who accepted that arrangement. She didn’t know whether James had done the same, though she hoped he had, because a century was a long time to be lonely.

Not that the lovers had ever cured the loneliness, it had just scratched an itch, provided a distraction for an evening, because she still had needs. Pleasurable but never really all that satisfying, a physical release with zero emotional connection. That was what she’d wanted but she couldn’t deny that there was a hollowness to it.

Their brush with death, and James’ new lease on life, had instigated this. It wasn’t entirely unexpected. They’d all been beset with memories since reuniting. Helen had been running from her feelings for the past sixty years, and for most of the sixty years before that too. She’d hoped that at some point it would stop hurting, and on a day-to-day basis it had. The pain had faded to a dull ache, and she would go days at a time before something reminded her of John or James. She’d had her work and the years had passed.

Shakily Helen moved and sat down heavily on the couch. She rested her head on her hands and rubbed at her brow. In 1889 she had told James she couldn’t live with his pain and her own. A hundred and twenty years had passed between then and now. Was the simple truth that it wasn’t about the pain any longer, that in actual fact she was just terrified of letting herself be vulnerable again? James and John had owned her heart, John had broken it but James never had. She’d kept up a protective wall but if she let James in, she was allowing the possibility of that pain.

If nothing else James didn’t have forever, he might have another sixty years now but he would still one day die of old age, if something else didn’t take either of them first. A tear escaped from her eye and trickled down her face, angrily she wiped it away, her heart felt like it was going to burst from the pain. They’d already wasted so much time. The question was, is she prepared to waste more? It would be devastating when James passed no matter what. Would years of memories be better than the bitter taste of regret and a lost chance?

Bizarrely Helen didn’t doubt that they could make it work. They’d never actually cohabited and they were both used to being in charge of their own Sanctuary’s. They were both fiercely independent, so she should have cause to be concerned but she wasn’t. All she had to do was make the decision.

Her radio crackled.

“Magnus?” Will’s voice came through the radio.

Helen closed her eyes. Truthfully she almost welcomed the interruption as she wasn’t ready to decide, and in no mood to go round and round in her own mind. After they’d dealt with the Cabal she was sure she’d know what she wanted, and whether she was prepared to accept the consequences of her choice.

“What is it Will?” Helen asked, pulling the radio from the clip on her jeans waistband.

“Can you please tell Tesla I’m not his personal shopper,” Will complained exasperatedly. “Henry said it was Doctor Watson that asked him, to ask me, to get Tesla some clothes but seriously, is that a priority right now?”

Helen gave a soft laugh and shook her head, only James. “Well I would prefer he didn’t start to smell,” Helen said, hoping her amusement wasn’t obvious through the radio. “If it’s that much of an inconvenience I’ll ask John to take Nikola home, and I’ll remind him that he should pack more appropriately next time.”

“That would be great!” Will said gratefully. Helen blinked, she hadn’t actually been serious. Will gave a bark of laughter. “It’s not like Old City has a ‘my taste hasn’t updated since the 19th century’ store anyway.”

“Have you done the evening feed schedule yet?” Helen asked sharply, suddenly feeling very old.

Honestly you’d think young people today were allergic to a nice suit. Will was an excellent doctor, a real asset to the sanctuary, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen him wear one. She tried not to judge people, in her line of work it wasn’t helpful, but perhaps the part of her that did have 19th century sensibilities still believed that a suit showed professionalism.

“I’ll get right on that,” Will agreed, the humor leaving his tone, perhaps he’d sensed she wasn’t amused.

Helen rose to her feet and clipped the radio back on her waistband. She’d go and see how Ashley was doing and then she supposed she best find John. He likely wasn’t expecting to be needed until 9am tomorrow, when Henry said he would be ready to infiltrate the Cabal’s computers, but her sarcasm had just earned him a small errand before then. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind. Helen paused, her hand on the door handle, John had been incredibly accommodating over the last few days. Actually as they now had the time she really should give him that overdue check-up, see if dying had left any lingering effects.

Also, if they were entering into the territory of long overdue conversations, it was past time she spoke to John. The past being the operative word. Drawing a line was impossible, they would never be finished, too much bound them together. She hadn’t asked James if he’d found any closure in speaking to John. Maybe she was afraid the answer was no. If there was any chance though, she had to see if it was possible. It was time.

*****

As she was already on the residential floor Helen checked John’s assigned guest room. There was no response to her gentle tap on the door, so she quietly opened it and popped her head round. The room was dimly lit, the fading sun outside struggling to make much light around the closed curtains, but she could see that the bed was empty. She took a single step into the room, there was a crease in the bedcovers from where John had lain on top of them but otherwise the room looked untouched.

Helen pulled the door shut with a quiet click and headed for the kitchen. It was empty, a single clean cup and plate on the drying rack. Someone had been there but it might not have been John, it could have been Henry or Will. For a moment Helen lingered in the doorway, beset by thoughts of her old friend. He was slowly losing his mind to the Lazarus virus, none of his special herbs had helped, and she knew his beliefs regarding modern medicine. It was fine for others but he followed the way of his people.

She hoped he would accept the cure when Nikola and James perfected one, but she doubted it. Perhaps if she talked with him, she might be able to convince him. She missed him dearly already, he was such a key part of this sanctuary, it was hard to imagine life without his stalwart presence. However, ultimately she would respect his choice; _‘nos must amitto vivo en - we must let go to live on’_.

John hadn’t wandered much, so as he wasn’t in her office that really only left one place left. Helen headed for the elevator and went down to the main sanctuary concourse. She weaved through the corridors until she reached the infirmary, and was unsurprised to see John standing outside the observation window to Ashley’s room. He had his hand against the glass, almost like he was trying to reach out.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Helen said by way of greeting. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not particularly,” John replied in a low tone.

He turned and leant against the wall, his eyes flickered briefly up to her face before they returned to the floor. Helen frowned, feeling worry start to bubble. Gently she reached out and brushed his arm.

“Come with me, I still haven’t looked at you properly since Praxis.”

She thought he might argue but he didn’t say a word, just sighed and followed her down the corridor to the main infirmary room. It contained four beds and most of their equipment, which was stored in moveable rolling units. She’d never seen the point in a separate exam room but then the last time she’d practiced medicine, outside of the sanctuary, had been during the war, when privacy wasn't exactly a consideration.

“Take off your coat and shirt,” Helen instructed.

John shrugged off the heavy leather coat, laying it on the bed. Belatedly Helen realised that either he’d fetched more than one clean shirt after their Italy trip, or he must have left the Sanctuary at some point. He was now wearing a light blue shirt, the silvery grey one had got covered in blood during the SHU incident. His hands moved to the buttons, deftly undoing them.

“You should give Nikola advice on how to pack for a trip,” Helen said lightly. “Would you mind taking him to pick up some clothes? I still can’t believe he didn’t bring any.”

John shrugged and sat down on the side of the bed. “Neither did I initially, and Tesla has always been more concerned with intellectual matters rather than the mundane matters of life. If you can tear him away from the lab, I can transport him home.”

“Thank you.” Helen picked up the blood pressure cuff and hesitated. “John-”

“Helen I …” John interrupted. He worked his jaw, staring resolutely at the ground and Helen waited until he looked up, his expression anguished. “Something’s changed.”

The certainty in his words carried weight which stole her breath and was like lead in her stomach. Shakily she took a deep breath, she needed to remain calm and collected.

“How do you mean?” Helen asked soberly.

“I …” John shook his head. “You won’t believe me.”

She put the blood pressure cuff down and moved to sit next to John on the bed. She took his hand, clasping it between both of hers and then looked him firmly in the eye once more. His eyes kept flickering away but they always returned. She didn’t think it was deceit that was making it hard for him to maintain eye contact, from the stress around his eyes and mouth, she was pretty sure it was shame.

“As far as I’m aware you haven’t lied to me since 1888, or have you forgotten our conversation in 1909? ‘Are we to return to lying to one another’ is what you said. Did you lie?” Helen arched an eyebrow.

John shook his head desperately. “No, no I … Helen we died and the rage that fueled me is gone. It’s not sleeping, I could still feel it’s weight even after Tesla … it’s just gone. I always felt as if I was under the grip of something I couldn’t control, like I was being compelled….” Tears glittered in his eyes. “Helen, I’m scared,” he choked. “What if it comes back? What if it doesn’t? I don’t understand what happened.”

Helen froze, a roaring in her ears as her brain stuttered, struggling to process John’s words. Her instinct was that it was far too convenient to blame this supposed compulsion. Her own words came to mind ‘ _nobody becomes what you are without a predilection for killing’_ but then she’d never seen John look like this. It wasn’t just his obvious desolation, it was his words, his confusion and his terror.

They’d never known for certain what had turned him into a cold-blooded killer. She’d thought it had been her blood which had made him go insane but dying in Praxis wouldn’t have changed that. Although she had no idea what the glowing box, that Nikola had mentioned, might have done beyond resurrecting them. She supposed that could have done something but it was just speculation and what they needed were hard facts.

“We need to return to Praxis,” Helen said slowly.

John blinked in surprise and then nodded fervently. When she’d decided to talk with him, she’d had closure on her mind, because it had been a hundred and twenty years. She’d taught Ashley how to deal with the loss that came with their job, but the whole time she’d never let go of the past herself. She’d never known how to let go of John, and James, and everything that had happened. Maybe there had never been any closure for any of them because they still didn’t understand what had happened. They couldn’t move on until they knew the truth.

“No we can’t,” John said hoarsely. “They killed us, we barely escaped. I won’t risk you and James for-”

“That’s not your decision,” Helen said sharply. “I’ll do a full work-up but I don’t exactly have anything to compare it to. We really need to know what Praxis did, to know whether they could have changed something within you. Besides we know what we’re walking into this time.”

“Same old Helen,” John noted fondly.

His lip trembled and Helen moved before she’d thought about it. Her arm slipped round him and then his face was against her neck. She wrapped her other arm round him, and she heard his breath hitch. Gently she stroked his back with her hand, his skin as soft and warm as she remembered. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, and she wasn’t sure who moved first, but somehow without letting go they laid down on the bed. He was pressed tightly against her, so they both fit on the narrow cot.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, fighting back tears of her own. Her fingers kept moving of their own accord, he was warm and he was here and dear God she’d missed him. All the stress of the last few days, her deep-seated fears about Ashley, suddenly overwhelmed her. John was clinging to her like she was a life raft and he was about to drown, but honestly he wasn’t the only one who desperately needed a hug. Right or wrong she needed this.

“Do you think … could there have been something?” John asked desperately, murmuring his question into her skin.

“I don’t know,” Helen said honestly. “But we’ll find out John.”

For a long time only the faint hum of the refrigerated medicine unit could be heard, and the faint rattle of the central air. It was a comfortable silence which struck her as strange because this should have been awkward.

“James said he loved me,” Helen said suddenly.

She felt John’s lips curve into a smile against her neck. “Good. About time. What you two have been doing for a century I don’t know.”

Helen paused, still absently stroking his arm. “I couldn’t live with his pain and my own.” 

John’s grip on her tightened. He didn’t say he was sorry, likely he thought that an apology wouldn’t be welcomed, and anyway the words would be meaningless. It was ultimately his fault, he was the one who had destroyed all of their lives, and that was why it was so important that they finally discover why. It always helped if there was a reason, that was probably why she’d blamed herself about the blood transfusion, because she’d needed a way to understand it.

In those dizzying days after Whitechapel she’d been so desperate to make sense of it because none of it had made any sense. How could it be John? How could John have done such things? If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes she wasn’t certain she’d have believed it. James had believed her without question, but then telling him had broken both their hearts, and he would have known she’d never have done that if she hadn’t been sure.

“I just want you to be happy Helen,” John whispered. “You and James deserve to be happy.”

The words _‘so do you’_ flew unbidden to her tongue but she swallowed them back. He was a serial killer. She loved him, she wanted the best for him, but he had butchered people and she could never forget that. Part of her really did want him to be right, for there to be some extenuating reason but this was real life, and nothing was ever that easy.

She shifted in his embrace, for a moment he held her tighter, and then he let her go. Helen sat up and stood, she busied herself looking at the medical equipment, not ready to meet his eyes after the moment they’d just shared. She heard John sit up, and move to sit back on the edge of the bed. She picked up the blood pressure cuff for the second time. The rasp of the velcro shockingly loud in the quiet room. Clinically she wrapped it around his arm, not letting her fingers linger against his skin. It had been a moment of weakness, one she couldn’t afford to let happen again.


	11. Chapter 11

John felt lighter after his talk with Helen. That she’d embraced him, and let him embrace her, was a balm to his tattered soul. He didn’t know whether she had told James of their conversation, he’d managed to avoid them both since Helen finished her medical exam and he’d left the infirmary. He hadn’t been sure that she would even consider the possibility that something else had been guiding his blade. It lit a spark of hope inside him that Helen hadn’t dismissed him out of hand, even as he worried about the prospective return trip to Praxis.

If anything happened to either Helen or James he would never forgive himself. Praxis was dangerous. They hadn’t known how dangerous or they might never have gone there in the first place, they might have found another way to combat the Lazarus virus, something which didn’t require the source blood. John would be eternally grateful that they had gone to Praxis, it had given James a new lease on life, meaning he now wasn’t dependent on that machine to live. However, it was different to take a risk for the fate of the world, or even to take the risk for James - this was about him, and he wasn’t worth it.

He considered the problem as he waited in Helen’s office for her tech-child, Henry. The problem was Helen was stubborn and if she decided that she was going, then no force on earth would be able to get her to reconsider. He’d always loved her independence, and respected her right to make her own choices, but occasionally he wished that she would let him protect her. He needed to return to Praxis, he had to know the truth, and the risk should be his and his alone.

Last night he’d escorted a reluctant Tesla to one of his bolt-holes. He’d thought that Tesla’s reluctance was because he didn’t want him to know where he lived. A home was a vulnerability, and they’d tried to kill each other a few too many times, for there to be an easy trust between them. However, it hadn’t been that; Tesla just hadn’t wanted to leave the lab. John had made a quip about how a watched experiment never completed, and Tesla had actually laughed. It reminded him of Oxford, of those days that summer where he’d conspired with Griffin to drag Tesla out of the lab to get the man some sun. That was probably where the pale vampire myth came from, nothing to do with vampires and everything to do with Tesla’s obsessive work ethic.

“Good John you are here,” Helen said as she strode into the office, Henry shuffling along behind her.

Internally John grimaced, Henry looked like a nervous puppy. Would it help if he reassured the boy he didn’t bite?

“You know what to do?” Helen checked.

“Teleport to the warehouse address Miss Freelander gave us, find a computer for the boy, protect him while he works, and then bring us both back,” John summarised.

His eyes kept moving over to the door and suddenly he realised he was waiting for James to appear. He was probably still holed up in the lab with Tesla, there was no need for him to be here until the information started trickling in and as John understood it that could take hours.

“Are you ready?” John asked.

Henry nodded but his expression couldn’t have been more unsure. John exchanged a wry glance with Helen, her soft smile reassured him that the boy would be fine, he was probably just nervous returning to Cabal territory after his recent encounter with them. John clamped his hand firmly down on Henry’s shoulder and the world spun away. A moment later and they were on the outside of the perimeter fence of the warehouse. Henry gasped and John absently patted him on the shoulder as he searched for security guards.

There were three. One was on the roof, another was patrolling and one was stationed by the door. That was good, the Cabal were still here. As they’d got this address from the captured Miss Freelander, an address the Cabal presumably knew she had, they could have cleared out by now. John wasn’t quite sure what it said that they hadn’t, but he left that kind of speculation up to James.

“Wait here,” John murmured.

He took a single step away from Henry and then he was on the other side of the warehouse door. He dropped to a crouch, scanning the ceilings for those damned security cameras. He really hated those things, technology was making it harder and harder to live anonymously, especially given his previous regularly scheduled indiscretions. This warehouse was packed full of boxes which made for excellent cover but was of zero use to them. He moved and in a flash was on the other side of the warehouse, which just confirmed his suspicions. It was an empty space just used for storage, there was no office, and no computer. Another flash and he was back at Henry’s side.

“There’s no computer here, just storage,” John told him.

Henry blinked and looked down at his tablet. “Oh ok, erm, well we got the phone number from the Cabal merc too. Give me a minute and I’ll-”

John grabbed his shoulder and transported them back to Helen’s office. “Not in enemy territory lad, run your trace here.” He glanced at Helen, she was behind her desk, clearly having risen to her feet on their unexpectedly fast return. “No computer at the warehouse.”

“Ah.” Helen nodded, dropping back down into her chair.

“Don’t you need to call the phone first?” John asked, watching as Henry tapped furiously away on his tablet.

“No,” Henry answered distractedly. “It’s better if you don’t. I mean that tips the bad guys off you know. All phones have to be connected to the cellular network, or else they can’t make calls, so the phone companies always know where the phones are. Even better they keep historical logs of where phone calls are made from. I can’t guarantee I’ll find a Cabal facility but if this, what’s her name, Dana Whitcomb, is as high up as that merc thinks, then good bet is to look where she spends most of her time.”

“Asleep in bed if she’s like most mortals,” John quipped.

Henry gave a nervous laugh but said nothing. John glanced over at Helen and shrugged, she smiled and then turned her attention back to the paperwork on her desk. John stood and waited patiently. It was quite entertaining watching Henry work. He tapped the screen and growled at it under his breath almost like the tablet was a living creature.

“Alright got it,” Henry announced, a victorious smile on his face a few minutes later. “Map says it’s an office building, downtown LA. Hey evil lives in Hollywood, good to know.”

“Does it say what floor she’s on?” John asked.

Henry laughed. “This isn’t the movies dude, it doesn’t work that way.”

“Fair enough.” John glanced at the coordinates and nodded. He looked at Helen. “Back soon.”

Then they were in the alley of the neighbouring building. John moved to the entrance of the alley, he paused at its mouth and leaned against the wall, peering round to study the Cabal building while ensuring he stayed out of sight. He held out an arm, stopping Henry from walking past him. It was a normal square, there was greenery and benches and it was bustling with people in suits. This early in the morning more than half of the square was still shadowed due to all the surrounding skyscrapers.

“Let me guess, wait here?” Henry arched an eyebrow.

“Yes.” John moved back into the alley.

He hesitated, trailing his fingers over the leather of his coat. Even if the Cabal didn’t recognise his face, his attire would draw attention. He shrugged it off, leaving himself in a shirt and trousers, and tossed it on top of the nearby dumpster lid. Then with a thought he was in the Cabal’s building. He had to have a known destination to teleport, which is why he needed coordinates or something he could see, and what he had seen through the glass wall of the entrance was the elevator.

John materialised at the bottom of the shaft, no cameras were likely to be in here. He looked up and saw the elevator car descending and with a thought he was on top of it. There was an emergency hatch. John crouched down and strained his ears. He heard the doors open and the lift shook as people exited, he did not hear anybody board. The doors closed and he took a chance, flashing down into the elevator.

Quickly he scanned the elevator, keeping his head down as much as possible. John growled low in his throat. He couldn’t see a damn camera but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one, they made them so damn small these days. The elevator stopped on level eight and a woman got on. She had red hair, pixie cut, looked to be about fifty and she was wearing a lab coat. They didn’t know whether the Cabal owned the entire building. He thought they probably did, their whole ethos was that they liked control, but it was unlikely they used every floor. Most of them were probably rented out to companies that were blissfully ignorant of the true nature of the Cabal. The trick would be finding the floors the Cabal did use; it was a large skyscraper and he’d really rather not go floor to floor. The longer he was here, the more chance there was of being recognised or challenged.

The lab coat looked promising and so when the woman got off on level thirty he followed. He kept his distance, waiting until she turned the corner before exiting the elevator. The key to not looking suspicious was to look like he belonged but he still paused at the corner and peered round first. It was a sensible precaution because the doctor he’d had the good fortune to run into was talking to Dana Whitcomb. Unlike himself Whitcomb had a drivers license so Henry had found her picture. John’s lips curved with satisfaction, oh they definitely had the right place.

He turned on his heel and headed purposefully back the way he came. There were lots of computers, lots of people sitting at their computers in little cubicles. Who knew evil could look so mundane. Two turns later and he found what he was looking for - a supply closet. A flash and he was back in the alley.

“Are we good?” Henry asked.

Critically John looked him up and down. Henry was wearing faded blue jeans, an orange t-shirt with some kind of symbol on it, a dark hooded sweater and some kind of thick wristband. That was not going to work.

“Do you own a suit Mr Foss?”

“Well I got one with style but you mean look like Joe normal? Yeah I guess I can do that.” Henry shrugged.

John picked up his jacket and then grabbed Henry’s shoulder and then they were standing in Henry’s bedroom. He blinked, looking disconcerted that they were here directly. In deference to his sensibilities John tossed his jacket onto Henry’s bed and turned his back, keeping his gaze fixed on the door. He heard Henry stumble about, and curse as he tripped over something. John bit his tongue, the boy was nervous enough around him so he restrained the sarcasm that wanted to point out the state of his room. Clothes should be in the laundry, or in the closet, not the floor. It would have been unacceptable for a child, a grown man really should have higher standards.

“Is this ok?” Henry asked.

Slowly John turned round and eyed him appraisingly. They weren’t suit trousers but they were black and from a distance nobody would notice. His button-up shirt was navy, and certainly better pressed than what Doctor Zimmerman had lent Tesla.

“Tuck the shirt in and you’ll do,” John decided.

Hastily Henry tucked it in and then grabbed his tablet. John grabbed his shoulder and then they were in the supply closet.

“Keep your head down,” John murmured.

Grasping his arm he guided Henry out of the closet, down the next corridor and into the maze of cubicles. He moved quickly until he found a cubicle that was empty, the monitor screen dark so he assumed the owner hadn’t just gone to relieve themselves. Henry hurried into the chair and a moment later the screen came to life. Tense John kept half an eye on him, and half an eye on everywhere else. He ignored Henry’s muttered comments as he coaxed the computer to do his bidding, just waiting until he heard the boy express satisfaction.

“Done?” John checked.

Henry grinned. “Oh yeah.”

John was tempted to transport them straight back but it wasn’t worth the risk. If they’d managed not to draw attention thus far, it wasn’t worth risking that with an oddity now. So he led Henry back to the supply closet before taking them both back to Helen’s office. She frowned on their arrival.

“What do you know doc, pencil pushers are the greatest threat. I always knew it, I mean it just ain’t natural, what do they even do all day?” Henry joked.

John’s lips twitched in amusement, the boy was bleeding off adrenaline. “Office building, I thought we should blend in.”

“Did you get what we need?” Helen asked.

“Yup!” Henry grinned. “They never think to secure Outlook. I’m going to go send the doc’s email blast idea right now. I’ve got it all set up, real sweet.”

“Excellent Henry, well done.” Helen gave him a proud nod.

Still grinning Henry turned and left the office. Helen watched him leave, fondness in her eyes. Idly John remembered his jacket, he really should retrieve that from the boys room before Henry returned there.

“Thank you John,” Helen said softly.

John bowed his head. “Anything for you, you know that. Soon hopefully this will all be over.”

Helen nodded. “And then we can return to Praxis.”

“Yes.” John coughed, still wishing that she would reconsider.

“John?” Helen moved round her desk and gently grasped his hand. He forced himself to look up and meet her eyes. It took his breath away, finding only warmth in her expression. “We might not even have to enter the city to get the answers we need. We have allies there after all.”

“If they are still alive,” John muttered, and given how they had left Lania and Xanatos he wouldn’t put money on it. “I need to get my jacket.”

Reluctantly he took a step back, Helen’s hand fell back to her side and then he was gone.

*****

James wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or horrified at how quickly the booby-trapped email blast worked. They had over a hundred clicks in the first five minutes - five minutes! He’d heard of the ‘always connected’ phenomenon but hadn’t fully appreciated how true it was. He’d tried to keep abreast of the cultural changes in the world, to aid in his deductions, but some things could only be truly understood through exposure or immersion. He was simply more comfortable living in familiar environs like the London sanctuary, or the traditional members-only clubs which he rotated between given his unnatural longevity. The world was changing so fast, he found himself being surprised more and more these days.

All the Sanctuary computers were networked and so Henry had enabled him to access everything from the machine in Helen’s office. Initially James had felt a little awkward sitting behind Helen’s desk, sitting in her chair, but the feeling soon passed. It had been an illogical reaction but he supposed the desk was a symbol of authority, and his respect for Helen was absolute. Any thoughts about where he was soon vanished from his mind when he dug into the data, his focus was totally on the screen, he might not have noticed if a troupe of clowns had paraded through the office.

By 9pm, Henry’s ‘worm’ had been running for almost twelve hours, and the amount of data was staggering and alarming. They had nearly three dozen locations of Cabal facilities around the world, almost as many bank accounts, and a list of eight major corporations who had provided those funds. Interestingly only three of the bank accounts were held off-shore, James had found it slightly amusing that the Cabal had an account in Switzerland, the Cayman’s and Geneva, just as Helen did. But then it was a logical move and nobody had ever accused the Cabal of being stupid. The other accounts were at regular banks, likely working accounts used for day-to-day operations - the Sanctuary had a set of similar accounts for similar reasons.

Beyond the information, which was fascinating and useful, was the fact that the email blast had allowed Henry to open a backdoor into every Cabal system. That was how he’d retrieved the information, he’d set his ‘worm’ to slowly crawl through the system and then instructed it to transmit in a manner which should avoid detection. Which gave James his first idea. He sat back in the chair and stroked his goatee thoughtfully.

“I’ve been waiting for that look.”

James’ gaze shot over to the door. John stepped into the room, a fond smile on his face. He stopped in front of the desk and James couldn’t help but study him. For the first time John wasn’t wearing his long leather jacket. He looked softer without it. John’s blue shirt was open at the neck, no tie or cravat, but then when they’d been together that was usually the first thing that was taken off. The shirt wasn’t the linen blend of the late 19th century, and it was blue, but otherwise it was achingly familiar.

“You have a plan,” John noted. “Can I know, or do you wish to tell Helen first?”

“It’ll mostly rely on you and young Henry so…” James shrugged. “It appears when the Cabal went underground they became beholden to their corporate sponsors. The power the Cabal seeks is just to extend the power that many of these companies already wield. It seems that no amount of power and money is enough, but as power and money is what they value, it gives us an easy weapon to destroy them.”

“And we accomplish that how?” John asked, moving to sit in the same armchair he had chosen the night they’d had drinks, the night before their trip to Praxis.

James started moving before he’d registered making the decision. He moved and sat in the armchair opposite John, just as he had that night. He trailed his fingers down his chest, the one difference being tonight he wasn’t busy calibrating his life support machine. He was free and unencumbered. John twisted, reaching for the bottle of whiskey, he held it up in silent question. James nodded and John poured two tumblers, handing him one.

“It’s an inescapable fact that everything in this world costs money,” James continued, as if there had been no delay. “The corporations that back the Cabal expect to see a return on their investment. If we destroy their research, and their facilities, that would cost a lot of money to replace. I have some contacts in law enforcement, we can probably put a freeze on the Cabal’s bank accounts as well. If they lose the entirety of their investment, I suspect that many would decide it wasn’t worth it.”

“Elementary, my dear Watson,” John teased.

James shot him an exasperated look. “Oh, shut up!”

John laughed and despite himself James felt his lips twitching with amusement as well. He’d heard that quip so many times over the years it shouldn’t be funny. First it had provoked annoyance, and then it had provoked anger, he’d settled more into long-suffering resignation in recent years. But it had been a century since John had last teased him about it and he couldn’t help the warmth of nostalgia it conjured.

“With their operation in ruins, they’d probably be like rats and a sinking ship.” John nodded thoughtfully. “Whomever was left will likely tear each other apart in a futile power struggle. I’m sure any true believers will attempt to rebuild but we can monitor that. They certainly wouldn’t pose anywhere near the threat they do now.”

“Precisely.” James smiled. “Henry can destroy their research, he can likely do that remotely. As for their facilities, and their equipment, we’d need to clear the buildings if possible. Some of them are public buildings, which would respect a fire alarm, but others…”

“People usually run from fire,” John said mildly. “I could always grab anyone and move them out of the way, if they were too close.”

James blinked. The Cabal were the enemy, he’d expected to have to dissuade John from killing, not have him offer unprompted to save anyone who might otherwise become collateral damage. The John he’d known for the past century was callous, uncaring when it came to strangers, any flashes of care had been reserved for him and Helen. The John he’d fallen in love with could be uncompromising when people he cared for were threatened, he’d been incredibly loyal, but he would never have seen anyone hurt unnecessarily if he had the power to prevent it. He’d never expected to see that side of John again.

“You haven’t spoken to Helen,” John said softly. James gave him a sharp look and John sighed, sorrow stealing over his features. “You know I have always maintained I was in the grip of something I couldn’t control. Well whatever it was left me in Praxis. I told Helen last night, she thinks we should return to Praxis to find answers.”

For a long moment James couldn’t think. There was a ringing in his ears as his brain tried to process. He felt blindsided. Twenty-four hours Helen had known and hadn’t said a word. Perhaps she had thought they’d deal with the Cabal first, and as there was nothing they could do until then, it wouldn’t be wise to distract him with news of something he couldn’t do anything about. More likely though it just hadn’t occurred to her to share. Helen had spent a lifetime alone, their contacts had been too brief and all sanctuary business for decades. She hadn’t told him about Nigel’s gift surviving his death, and she hadn’t told him about this.

He would have been lying if he didn’t admit, if only to himself, that it hurt but he didn’t blame Helen. This was the situation they had created for themselves and it was one he hoped to change if he could. Helen had never liked to be seen to need help, too much gendered nonsense that she’d had to overcome, but in private she’d used to accept his support. He hoped that she would again.

“We should probably call ahead first,” James suggested. “Although that is a risk, as if it’s intercepted … we’d need some way of confirming that it was actually Lania that replied. Perhaps Nikola might have a suggestion.”

“Well they did sleep together,” John agreed. “I suppose, if she does reply, we might not need go at all, or at least you-”

“You’re not going alone,” James interrupted firmly.

A muscle twitched in John’s jaw, but he didn’t argue, likely recognising it as a losing position. Returning to Praxis was potentially incredibly dangerous, they all knew that and the choice was theirs to make. They’d leapt into the unknown to retrieve the source blood because the fate of the world was at stake. To find answers to Whitechapel, in James' mind any risk that returning to Praxis posed was infinitely worth it.

The Ripper case had confounded him like no other, and it had never made any sense that it was John. That was why he hadn’t seen it because the John he’d known, and loved, would never have been capable of such brutality. Besides, logically if Lania and her brother had survived, and were able to respond to a missive, then they must have found a way to elude Praxis security. Hopefully that would permit them to do the same.

James finished his whiskey and held out the glass for John to refill. His free hand dropped to the radio in his jacket pocket. In a moment he’d radio Helen, inform her of the plan to destabilise the Cabal and, pending her approval, they would then proceed. Mortals needed sleep, so the facilities were likely less populated at night, which would make it a more optimum time for John to strike. It would hopefully also make it less likely that they would detect Henry wiping all their data before it was too late.

With any luck the Cabal situation would be over in just a few days. The faster they moved against the Cabal, the less time the Cabal would have to marshall any kind of defense. It was a sound strategy. Of course they still needed to distribute the cure. Nikola had sent half a dozen doses up to the Sanctuary team on the Yukon-Alaskan border for testing. If all went well, and James was sure it would work perfectly, they could begin mass-production and soon put this entire mess behind them.

And then, Praxis willing, finally get some answers to a hundred and twenty year old mystery.


	12. Chapter 12

Guilt was a familiar feeling but one Helen tried not to indulge very often. It was a wasted emotion, it accomplished nothing except making her feel bad. However, when James had radioed and asked her to come to her office she’d had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. He was alone in the office when she’d arrived but the two whiskey tumblers said that John had been there. She’d known before he said anything that John had told him, as he had her, about how he’d felt different since Praxis.

Indeed, after James had explained his plan for dealing with the Cabal which she’d whole-heartedly approved of, he’d then gently told her that John had spoken to him. She wished that James had been angry because he’d had a right to know, and she’d not said a word. Instead he’d been perfectly understanding which had just made her feel worse. James had finished by wistfully saying that he hoped to earn her trust back, so that in the future she would think to confide in him. He’d then left her office. She’d swiftly shut both doors, wanting privacy as the guilt overwhelmed her, and then slumped down onto the couch.

She should have explained that it wasn’t about trust, that it was about habit. She already trusted James more than she trusted anyone else but, in her personal life, she’d not had to explain herself to anyone for over a century. Also, she’d be lying if she said that there weren’t matters of sanctuary business that she’d kept to herself over the years. Self-reliance was just a way of life. It hadn’t even occurred to her to find James and repeat what John had told her. Truthfully she’d tried not to think about what John had said, there was nothing that could be done until after the Cabal was dealt with, and the implications were too much to consider.

The burden of leadership meant that she didn’t like to show weakness. If something bothered her then she kept it to herself. What James was offering was unconditional support. He was saying that in private, between them, she could be vulnerable and he wouldn’t think any less of her. That complete support and lack of judgement was probably why she’d fallen in love with him to begin with. It was something that, as a thoroughly unconventional woman in the late 1880’s, she’d never thought she’d find. What man would want an independent woman like her? And as she wasn’t about to change herself, she’d reconciled herself to a life alone before she’d met John, and James.

Perhaps it wasn’t the burden of leadership, maybe it was that old insecurity coming back to haunt her. Helen still remembered the night she’d confessed her concerns to John, she’d so convinced herself that sooner or later he’d tire of her and instead court a more traditional woman to be his wife.

*****

_~ Flashback ~  
_ _Oxford, March, 1887_

It had been another wonderful evening. She’d dressed in a thoroughly impractical purple gown which Maud had to lace her into, it had far more frills than she usually bothered with but she’d thought John might like it. He’d escorted her to the theatre, the play had been terrible but with the house lights down they’d snuck a few kisses. His dry commentary had been hilarious, she’d laughed far more than was seemly, but he hadn’t seemed to mind.

Now he’d escorted her home, his hand warm in hers, and daringly she’d invited him in for a nightcap. It was scandalous as they weren’t yet engaged, if anyone found out it could ruin her reputation, but who was to see? Maud and Brook, the household staff, had retired for the night and her father was on one of his trips. She’d poured him a brandy and he had his arm around her shoulders on the settee. Truthfully Helen was tempted to allow him more than a few kisses. By society's standards she was already an old maid and as a scientist her curiosity knew no bounds. She really wanted to know what it was like, while she still had the chance.

“You’re very far away this evening Helen,” John said. He put his brandy down and raised his hand to her face, gently brushing her cheek. “Is something the matter? I know the play was awful-”

“No John, it’s been a lovely evening.” Helen took his hand and held it between both of hers.

John frowned. “Then what is it my darling?”

Helen worried at her lip. They’d been courting for long enough that it wasn’t unreasonable to expect a statement of intention. However, she was loathe to bring up the subject of marriage because that was what frightened her. She was a doctor, she was auditing classes at Oxford, she was hardly cast in the traditional mold of the kind of wife John would have been taught to expect. If he was courting her without intending marriage, then he might sever all ties if he felt she was trying to trap him and she didn’t want that. Over the last few months she’d fallen in love with John Druitt, and she wanted as much time with him as possible.

“Helen,” John prompted, he lifted her hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss on the back of it. “It’s not like you to not speak your mind.”

“Does that bother you?” Helen asked, her eyes drifting over to the fire. “I’ve never been conventional-”

Gently John cupped her face, urging her to look at him. Amusement was tugging at his lips as he shook his head. “Helen we met at Oxford after you started attending classes. I’ve never been under any illusion as to who you are. On the contrary your spirit is possibly what enchants me the most, though I’m afraid the list of what I love about you is rather long.”

Helen felt herself blush and she ducked her head. She wanted to believe him. She hadn’t expected to make friends attending Oxford but James, Nikola and Nigel had become so dear to her. Their study group The Five, as they’d come to call themselves, it was all so unexpected. However, it was one thing for John to accept her as a fellow scientist, it was quite another to want her as a wife.

She peered back up at him, he was looking at her appraisingly, his eyes narrowed as if she were a problem he was trying to solve. She felt a stab of anxiety and then his expression cleared. He shifted position so that he was facing her, and gently clasped her hands in his.

“I haven’t spoken to your father yet, or mine for that matter, but I had hoped I’d made myself clear to you but apparently not. So let me speak plainly. I love you Helen, I will follow you anywhere, I care not a whit for how unconventional you are,” John stated firmly. “I’m not exactly conventional myself you know.”

Helen gave a nervous laugh. “Well you are courting me.”

“Hush darling.” John rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

He glanced over to the door, a flash of indecision on his face. Helen suddenly noticed the tenseness in his shoulders and she realised that he was contemplating telling her a secret. For a long moment there was nothing but the sound of the crackling of the wood in the fire. She practically held her breath waiting for him to decide whether to tell her or not. She was now very curious but she wouldn’t ask. John’s words suggested he was offering her unconditional support, she couldn’t quite believe it but if it was true he definitely deserved the same consideration from her.

“What happened was technically illegal,” John confessed, and now it was him that wouldn’t meet her eyes, as he kept his gaze fixed to the floor. “I can’t think of it in those terms. I’m not ashamed and I don’t regret it, although society would definitely say that I should.”

John paused. Helen’s mind raced but she couldn’t think of any possibilities that would make sense. John was a decent, honorable man, she couldn’t imagine him breaking the law. Given their conversation, how he was trying to alleviate her insecurities about being unconventional with this confession, it was likely more about the rules of society than the actual law. She rubbed her fingers against his hands in a comforting gesture and waited.

“James and I were more than friends,” John blurted out. “I probably shouldn’t have said it like that as it implicates him. Once we started courting it stopped of course-”

“Shhh,” Helen soothed, as he was starting to babble.

If she was honest she wasn’t as shocked as she probably should have been. She had eyes and she’d noticed how close John and James were, she just hadn’t realised why. She now knew what John meant when he said it was technically illegal. Truthfully that wasn’t a law she agreed with but then her father’s work with abnormals had broadened her mind. Society would consider abnormals monstrosities who should be destroyed, and if they deserved respect, then why would she judge the man she loved for who he’d loved before her? John had risked a lot by telling her, and he’d done it to reassure her over some old insecurities. It wasn’t as if she’d ever cared for society’s opinion before, she’d just got all twisted in her own mind about marriage because she loved him and didn’t want to lose him.

“So neither of us are conventional then,” Helen said simply.

A slow smile crept across John’s face, the relief clear in his eyes at her acceptance. He leant forward and then his lips were against hers. Helen melted into his embrace and all thoughts about society and convention left her mind.

_~ End Flashback ~_

*****

Helen sighed. John had admitted later that he’d been reasonably certain she’d be accepting, or he never would have confessed in the first place, but there had been a sliver of doubt which gave him shivers when he thought back on it. She was fiercely glad that he’d told her, if he hadn’t then their relationship would likely have never evolved to include James. She’d loved John deeply, or she never would have accepted his marriage proposal, but somehow the three of them just fit together in a way that had been transcendent.

She groaned softly and forced herself to her feet. While she could stay in her office for a little while longer, that would be hiding and she had a few things she wanted to do before heading to the infirmary. She’d taken Ashley out of the coma just after lunch after running another complete scan. Her genetics were now stable, and matched her previous profile perfectly. That likely meant if the Cabal had unlocked her ability to teleport, she would no longer be able to when she woke up. Helen knew it was hypocritical, given her work on the source blood, but she couldn’t help but feel very relieved about that.

In 1888 she’d been young, a little arrogant, and like most young people she’d been so intrigued by the possibilities she’d never really thought about the consequences. Genetics were really too dangerous to tamper with. Ashley had yet to wake up but that was to be expected, the sedative would take time to leave her system. Helen planned to sleep in the chair in Ashley’s room tonight, so she’d be there when she did finally wake. No matter how old her daughter got, or how independent she was, Helen just needed to be there for her.

Helen checked her watch as she slipped out of her office door. Given she’d approved of James’ plan he had probably gone to find John to put it into motion. They would probably be in the armory pilfering Ashley’s explosives. Nikola had finally retired to get some sleep, as there was nothing more he could do, the cure was complete and just needed testing. Will was probably visiting with her old friend before he retired for the night. She headed for the elevator and went down to the main sanctuary concourse. She saw Henry in his little nook, she needed to see him but she had another stop to make first. She weaved through the corridors until she came to the containment cell where they’d left Kate Freelander.

She entered the code and the door lock disengaged. Kate looked over at the sound and Helen kept a wary eye on her. After James and John had finished the interrogation they’d released her from being bound to the chair. There was nothing to stop her from attempting to escape, apart from common sense at least. Kate had betrayed the Cabal, at the moment she really didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Kate looked over at the door but didn’t move from her position on the far side of the room. It looked like she had been pacing.

“The information you gave us proved to be helpful,” Helen told her. “I thought you should know that.”

“Yeah well.” Kate shrugged. “Dana offered me triple my usual fee for stealing a vial of blood - what is up with that anyway? - you know what, don’t want to know. It was too good an offer to refuse but the Cabal probably were never going to pay up. A bullet in the head is a much cheaper payment plan.”

Helen gave a disbelieving smile. “So you are saying you betrayed the Cabal because they weren’t going to pay you?” Kate shrugged again nonchalantly and Helen shook her head. “If that works for you then keep on lying to yourself, but we both know why you really talked, and don’t say it was John.”

Kate’s mouth twisted. Helen studied her for a long moment; the shift in weight, the flutter of her right hand, it would seem she made Kate uncomfortable. It was a feeling that Helen could relate to as of late, somebody else effectively being a mirror and forcing introspection.

“How would you like to get out of this cell?” Helen asked.

“You’re letting me go?” Kate arched an eyebrow, sounding incredibly dubious.

“Not at all, although if you choose to run we would be hard pressed to stop you. I just thought you’d be more comfortable in a room upstairs, I believe we owe you that much,” Helen offered.

Kate frowned. Helen could see that she was looking for the catch, and she was right because this was a test, Helen did want to see what Kate would choose. It had been obvious from the beginning that Kate was conflicted about the Cabal. Helen knew that maybe she was just looking for the good in people at the moment, but she hadn’t got to be a hundred and fifty-seven without knowing a bit about people. Kate would hardly be the first black hat she’d recruited to the sanctuary network. Sometimes people just needed a chance to make a better choice.

“Well I am getting sick of having to ring the bell every time I need to pee,” Kate allowed.

She moved towards the door. Helen shifted allowing her to pass her, before following her out of the door. “This way,” Helen directed.

Kate warily fell into step next to her. Helen led them through the corridors until they reached the elevator. She had planned on taking Kate upstairs herself and assigning her to a room, but when they arrived at the elevator Will was there. Will looked surprised seeing Kate, and shot Helen a questioning glance.

“If you could find her an empty guest room Will, I don’t think Miss Freelander needs to stay in the cell any longer,” Helen explained.

“Ok,” Will said slowly. “Sure, why not? Doctor Will Zimmerman.” Will held out his hand. “I don’t think we were ever properly introduced.”

“Kate Freelander.” Kate shook his head and smirked. “But then I guess you already knew that. Has everyone been buzzing about me? And how I got through your pathetic security?”

“Speaking of,” Helen interjected. “We’d appreciate it if you’d highlight those security flaws.”

“Oh I bet you would.” Kate grinned. “Well I suppose, maybe, you know I’ll think about it.”

The elevator rumbled as it arrived, the doors shuddering open. Will gestured for Kate to step inside and shot Helen another questioning look. Helen gave him an enigmatic smile in return. Clearly Will had decided that this might as well happen, but like many things lately he didn’t understand or necessarily approve. Will wasn’t wrong, this was a risk, but Helen had a good feeling.

She waited for the doors to close before turning and heading for Henry’s nook. He was ensconced in front of his computer, utterly engrossed with the lines of code that were flashing on the screen. There were remnants of three coffee cups scattered on the desk, and the remains of half a sandwich. Helen shook her head fondly, it seemed without her old friend holding sway over the kitchen they were all falling into bad habits. Usually if Henry skipped dinner, or tried to eat at his desk, then he would soon be dragged away with a friendly shove. Her old friend had always taken such good care of them.

“Henry, how is it going?” Helen asked.

“Oh hey doc.” Henry turned to glance at her, before looking back at the screen. “Yeah it’s good. Wiped two locations already, doesn’t seem to have set off any alarms. Doctor Watson gave me the order in which to do it, and I think Druitt is going to hit them the same order. So if they notice their computers are gone they aren’t going to have much time to fix it, or they won’t realise until the facility is gone. If they have anyone left they’ll be so mad, getting data off a burnt-up disk is hard enough, but when the data’s already wiped...” Henry laughed. “I mean it’s kinda funny, in a they totally deserve it kinda way.”

Helen pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Did you get a look at the data before you destroyed it?”

Henry coughed. “Well I didn’t exactly get any direction on that. I figured, I mean, we were intelligence gathering so I gathered. Basically we have everything right now.”

“You have all of the Cabal’s data?” Helen checked. Henry nodded. “Good lord. Anything interesting?”

“A lot of nasty shit doc, seriously like nightmare fuel and that’s just from skimming the project titles. I did look up the Morrigan, to see what happened to them, and well-”

“They’re dead,” Helen finished. Henry gave a solemn nod. “I suspected as much. With the amount of power they wielded the Cabal wouldn’t have accepted not having absolute control.”

“Shall I delete the data?” Henry asked.

Helen grimaced. She really wanted to say yes. She could only imagine the suffering that had produced the Cabal’s project data. But destroying it wouldn’t erase that suffering, or bring back those who had been killed, and prudence said that it might be useful one day. This lazarus virus demonstrated what the Cabal were capable of and their research wasn’t going to end with the Cabal. They weren’t murdering the scientists behind it and so they could well encounter a Cabal engineered problem in the future.

“Back it all up onto a separate hard drive,” Helen instructed. “Then scrub it from the main servers. Store the hard drive somewhere secure. That way if we need it, we have it, but nobody has to know we have it.”

“Understood doc.” Henry’s fingers flew across the keys for a moment, stopping when he hit enter decisively. He then turned. “Hey how’s Ashley doing?”

“She should wake up soon,” Helen said reassuringly. “I’m sure she’ll be completely back to her usual self within the next couple of days.”

“That’s great.” Henry let out a sigh of relief. “I am so sorry for-”

“Henry!” Helen said sharply. “I hope you haven’t been worrying about this. We haven’t talked about it because I didn’t realise there was anything to say. I should never have sent you and Ashley in alone to begin with. You were in just as much danger, they could have done anything to you, and I’m extremely grateful they didn’t.”

Helen took a step forward as Henry stood up, and then she had her arms round him, giving him the hug she should have given him the moment he returned from the Cabal. She’d been so scared when Ashley had collapsed, and then had been consumed with treating her, worrying about her old friend, monitoring the search for the cure, Kate Freelander breaking in and the mess she’d caused in the SHU, dealing with the other sanctuary heads and of course everything with John and James. It had been an overwhelming few days and she hadn’t been there for Henry.

“You don’t have to be so independent,” Helen told him, after they finally separated.

Henry blushed and ducked his head. He’d always been painfully shy when it came to affection which is why she didn’t push it. He could have called her ‘mom’ like Ashley but he’d never been comfortable. She didn’t say that he could always come to her but that’s what she meant. Just because they didn’t use the words, didn’t change the situation, in her heart Henry would always be her son.

“I’ll be in the infirmary with Ashley if you need anything.” Helen turned and took a couple of steps before twisting to look back at him. “You are doing a great job Henry, I’m very proud of you.”

“Thanks doc,” Henry muttered, sitting back down at the computer, a pleased smile on his face.

Helen headed for the infirmary. All she needed now was for Ashley to wake up and then the day would be complete. The Cabal were under assault, the cure was about to be tested and she was certain mass distribution would soon follow. The crisis would soon be resolved. The issue of her old friend remained, if he didn’t accept the cure, but that was a problem for next week. First they’d ensure that the cure worked, not that she doubted Nikola and James at all, and only then would she worry about convincing him.

Her mind drifted to Praxis. James felt they should try and contact Lania first. She wasn’t certain how they’d manage that but Nikola might have some idea. When he surfaced tomorrow she’d ask him to work on it. Helen approached Ashley’s room, she still looked far too pale and still on the white sheets of the bed. She settled into the chair next to the bed and waited for her to wake.


	13. Chapter 13

Three days later and it was like déjà vu. Helen was sitting in her office waiting for the others to arrive so they could depart for Praxis. Her clothes were clean but otherwise virtually identical to what she’d chosen to wear the last time; black jeans, black knee-high leather boots, brown leather jacket and a black t-shirt instead of a turtleneck. Her gun was secured in her thigh holster like normal.

As she’d thought the cure that Nikola and James had produced had worked perfectly on the first test. They’d had it mass-produced and within the next twenty-four hours the outbreak would be officially over, with plenty of doses left on hand at each of the sanctuaries as a precaution against future cases. A smile crossed Helen’s face when she thought of Ashley, who was now completely recovered and driving Henry and Will crazy as they were currently still on lockdown. The smile fell from Helen’s face when she thought of her old friend, who hadn’t yet accepted the treatment, but his condition hadn’t worsened either. There was still time.

The Cabal had been gutted in two nights, and it had only taken that long because multiple teleports was rather tiring and John had needed a break. The Sanctuary had put out the word to their contacts in the underworld, and the Cabal was apparently like rats with a sinking ship. She was sure some of the Cabal’s people would be a problem in the future, leopards and their spots came to mind, but they wouldn't have the global power that the Cabal had commanded. Hopefully with vigilance they’d be able to avoid another organisation like the Cabal laying roots and rising to such potential dominance in the future.

With the fate of the world sorted that just left Praxis. As she’d suspected Nikola had relished the challenge of working out how to communicate with Praxis from the outside. The lodestone deposits, which generated the natural EM shield, had been quite the conundrum. In the end he’d drawn inspiration from the autotype machine he’d invented and the fluctuating frequency it had used. At first, when he’d started to explain it, she’d been confused as to how Lania would be able to decipher the message.

The whole point about the autotype was that it was secure and there was only one left in existence anyway - the one in her basement, the other four had been destroyed over the years. However, Nikola explained that the fluctuation was to compensate for the lodestone, low frequency to get there, high frequency to penetrate the EM interference, as opposed to rapid and random fluctuations. It had to be a simple binary message, which is where the autotype came back in, as that had been designed like a telegram to function using morse code.

Nikola had then had to come up with a message that only Lania would understand, and which would ask for a response that only she could give. He’d deliberated over it before giving a devilish grin and writing _‘Safe? 14/3/46 noteworthy? NT’_. Helen had thought it would take a long time to hear back but the response had come within an hour. _‘Yes. Blew out ceiling. Smug bastard. L’_ Helen had wanted to ask but on reading that, and seeing Nikola’s smirk, had decided that she’d prefer not to know. They’d traded another couple of messages and arranged to meet at 9am, at the same location they’d teleported to and from last time.

Given that was surely well known to Praxis authorities, that had given Helen pause, but Lania had nothing to gain from selling them out. She could have easily given the wrong answer to Nikola’s question without alerting her captors. Lania could also have told them they shouldn’t come. It appeared that perhaps the situation in Praxis had changed over the last week. Maybe Lania’s return and the fight their escape had caused had prompted a wider rebellion? After sixty years of a crushing authoritarian state Helen doubted it but they hadn’t been on Praxis long, and if she knew people then she knew that there were always those who fought back. There had to be a resistance somewhere and maybe they’d given them an opportunity to strike.

This time Nikola was the first to arrive. He was dressed in much the same outfit as when she’d first seen him in Rome; a dark blue shirt with dark jacket and scarf. He held up a gun he’d obviously liberated from her armory and tucked it into his waistband.

“Not that I think we’ll need it,” Nikola commented. “I smell revolution.”

“I smell trouble,” James said dryly as he appeared in the left doorway. He smiled at Helen. “Good morning Helen.”

“Good morning James.” Helen smiled back. “You think we’re walking into a trap?”

“No,” James said slowly. “But I do think there’s a reason Lania’s been so coy about the current situation in Praxis. Something’s going on.”

“I could go first and look into it,” John offered quietly, appearing in the other doorway.

“No,” Helen said firmly.

“Not a chance!” James exclaimed at the same time.

John raised his hands in mute surrender and Helen internally sighed. John had dressed in all black, with a black shirt under his usual black leather jacket. Added to his expression he looked like he was going to his own funeral. No doubt John was nervous about what they might find out. Although Helen wasn’t sure what it was he truly wanted. She could still hear his choked words when he’d confessed his fear, _‘what if it comes back? What if it doesn’t?’_. He’d lived with the rage and the blood lust for over a century. He probably didn’t know how to live without it.

“You wouldn’t be returning if it wasn’t for me,” John pointed out. “I just think that-”

“Johnny, and you say I have an ego?” Nikola interrupted. He arched an eyebrow. “I have my own plans. All that technology I never had a chance to take apart. How will I improve upon it if I don’t know how it works?” He strolled over and gripped John’s jacket. “You’re just convenient transport.”

John snorted and teleported away. Helen huffed with laughter and glanced at James who was also smiling.

“Do you think Nikola really believes he’s fooling anyone?” Helen wondered as she stepped out from behind her desk to go and stand next to James.

James shook his head and then the air rippled and John was back.

“Looks clear. I only saw Lania, no soldiers in sight, no resistance holding ground,” John reported gravely.

Helen glanced at James who shrugged. Helen nodded at John that they were ready. What John said changed nothing. Until they left the cavern John could get them out of there in a flash, and they wouldn’t leave until Lania had explained the situation. If it proved to be a trap they had a way out. It was still worth the risk. John grabbed their shoulders and the world spun away, reforming to the Praxis cavern. Helen scanned the area but just like before she spotted no signs of life. Just Lania and Nikola standing waiting for them.

“Alright Lania what’s going on?” Helen asked.

Lania wrung her hands and Helen tensed. Lania didn’t look mistreated, there were no signs of injury but then her gift would allow her to heal any wounds, so that was no guarantee that she hadn’t been grievously hurt. She looked smaller, diminished, and as she chewed on her lip Helen’s anxiety grew. Something was seriously wrong. Helen drew her gun, the feel of it in her hand a small reassurance. Though there might not be a threat. The last they’d seen Lania’s brother Xanatos had been holding off Praxis security, what if he’d died?

“Tavius is dead,” Lania said quietly. She glanced over her shoulder. Helen’s eyes followed the movement but saw nothing. “And Xan has gone mad.”

“Your brother has gone mad?” James pressed.

James gave Helen a significant look and her breath caught in her throat. Lania hesitated again and for a moment there was just the sound of the roaring waterfall, which sounded very much like the roaring in her ears. Right now she was adding two and two and wasn’t sure if she was getting four. John had died here, and since then felt like he was missing something; Xanatos and Nikola had been the only two left alive in the execution chamber. Was it possible that…?

“How has your brother changed?” Helen asked sharply.

“He killed Tavius and then …” Lania pursed her lips and paced in a circle. She ran a hand through her long dark hair and shook her head. “He thinks I don’t know what he’s been doing. I mean it’s only been a week. It made sense that somebody had to take control. Tavius had been the absolute leader for so long that anarchy would have reigned. Technically the council still exists but they are too cowed to do anything without permission and…”

Lania broke off again. She looked away from them, over to the waterfall but Helen could see the distance in her eyes. Lania wasn’t seeing the waterfall, she was seeing whatever horrors she was remembering in her mind.

“He’s been killing them,” Lania finished hollowly. “Calling them up, saying he has to find out how much they collaborated with Tavius, how guilty they are. He’s paranoid and violent.” Lania’s hand drifted to her throat, brushing it absently. “I confronted him about the councilors disappearing, about future trials and … I’ve never seen that look in his eyes before.”

“It wasn’t your brother anymore, it was the look of evil,” John murmured. “Of a cold-blooded killer.”

Helen felt a chill, like someone had just dumped an ice cold glass of water over her head. She’d thought John’s tone would have been knowing but it wasn’t, it was just sympathetic and more than a little sad. He wasn’t crowing that he’d been right, but it did definitely sound like he might be right and dear God that hurt. They’d come to Praxis to try and discover the truth behind Whitechapel, to find the reason for why John had gone insane and become the Ripper, and honestly Helen wasn’t sure what she’d expected but it hadn’t been this.

For the past century she’d blamed herself, thinking that it was her blood that had driven John to madness. She’d needed a reason, a way to understand it, but it had never been an excuse. She’d always ultimately felt that John had to take responsibility for the choices he’d made. Diminished responsibility yes given that she thought he’d gone insane, but he could still reason and he’d hidden his crimes from them. If he was capable of higher-functioning, then he was capable of making a better choice.

But what if that wasn’t true? What if John’s belief that he’d been in the grip of something he couldn’t control was accurate? If whatever had possessed John was now possessing Xanatos perhaps that was the truth they’d been missing for the past century. How much responsibility would they hold then for their murderous actions?

On the other hand, she didn’t know Lania’s brother. Lania perhaps didn’t know him anymore, they’d been apart for sixty years and Xanatos had been head of security for a dictator all that time. Maybe he’d changed, perhaps he wasn’t the good man Lania had thought. Perhaps John feeling like his rage had gone, and Xanatos’ actions weren’t connected. It seemed like a hell of a coincidence but they couldn’t be certain. Not until they looked at Xanatos and discovered if there was indeed something driving his actions that wasn’t his own will. And if that was the case … well they’d deal with that when they came to it.

“Did you examine him?” James asked. “Nikola tells me you have a healing ability. Did you sense whether something was wrong with him?”

Lania shook her head. “I didn’t get the opportunity. Honestly Nikola I’m really glad you reached out. I’m sure that there is something deeply wrong with Xan but I don’t think I can find out on my own, he’s much too powerful.”

“I saw him fight. With his power I don’t think even Tesla and I can get close to him,” John said.

He sounded defeated and Helen bristled, she didn’t accept defeat. Especially as they hadn’t even tried yet. Besides, a fight wasn’t inevitable. They hadn’t suspected John was the Ripper for months and he hadn’t turned violent against them until he was unmasked. Years later … Helen could remember the madness in his eyes and the cool blade an inch from her skin. She’d been so terrified of him that night. But he hadn’t killed her, he hadn’t even hurt her, and that was significant.

“You’re assuming it has to be a fight. John, what helped you keep control?” Helen asked.

John thought for a moment. His eyes drifted from Helen to James and back again. Finally he looked to Lania. “Talk to him,” John said simply. “If he has a partner, get them to talk to him. If you love him, feeling that from you will help keep him stable. As you’ve already learned his rage will lash out at even you but he didn’t hurt you did he?”

“No,” Lania whispered. “I thought he was going to kill me but-”

“He just scared you,” Helen finished. Her eyes met John’s and she saw the sorrow and the guilt, she wasn’t the only one remembering that night.

“Maybe I could shock him,” Nikola suggested. “Give him back his sanity.”

“You think that’ll work? Why do you think that’ll work?” Lania asked desperately.

Nikola shrugged. “It worked on Johnny.”

Lania turned wild eyes on John, confusion and anger written all over her face. Her hand curled into a fist. Helen looked at John, at his acceptance, and knew that he would take whatever blow Lania dealt as he believed he deserved it. Helen moved, putting herself between them. She went to hold up her hands, belatedly realising she was still holding her gun. She holstered it and raised them in a pacifying gesture.

“We came here for answers. We don’t know what’s wrong with your brother, or if it came from John, but if it did then it’s not John’s fault,” Helen stated firmly. “He didn’t give whatever this is to your brother, it would have been released on his death. None of us chose to die the last time we were here.”

“Why don’t you lead us to Xanatos,” James suggested kindly.

Lania glared at Helen, her eyes like flint, but she subsided. “Follow me,” she growled, stalking away from them to the tunnel they all remembered from the last time they were here.

Nikola hurried after her and James followed, which left Helen to walk next to John. As they made their way through the tunnel she caught him looking at her several times, like he was struggling to either think of the words he needed, or to pluck up the courage to say them. She didn’t prompt him because until they had actual answers, there was little point in talking about it. Talking about it would require that she analyse how she felt, and until she had more information, then she wasn’t going anywhere near that.

Walking into Praxis this time felt like walking into a different city. Before people were frightened to look at one another, afraid to draw attention to themselves. There was still a lot of fear but it was drawn more from uncertainty, than it was fear of retribution. As they passed many of the Praxians openly stared at them, their clothing marked them as outlanders at the very least and it’s possible some of them might have seen them last time. They were the ones who had got away and the same day their self-appointed Emperor had met his end.

Helen suspected that Lania would lead them to the council building in the center of the city. As Xanatos had taken over leadership of Praxis that would make sense. It was a half hour trek which unfortunately gave her far too much time to think. It was only the decades of practice which allowed her to control her thoughts, focusing on mundane matters of sanctuary business rather than the proverbial elephant in the room - the unknown they were walking towards.

It was a relief to walk into the cool air-conditioned lobby of the council building, it meant they were nearly there. Lania led them to the elevator. It wasn’t in the center of the building, but against the side wall. The doors opened immediately when she pressed the button and Helen’s eyes widened. It was a glass elevator, which went up the outside of the building. The five of them boarded and Lania hit the number for the top floor.

They ascended in silence, which was no hardship because the view was fairly spectacular. True they’d seen the city from above before, from the rooftop and from when Xanatos had flown them over the last part of the city back to the tunnel entrance, but as they’d been running for their lives at the time Helen hadn’t taken in the details. An orange glow covered the city due to the ambient lighting, buildings of all shapes and sizes formed the skyline, most of them had a number of lit windows which didn’t just glow with normal white light. Helen could see purple, blue and even green illumination.

Helen tensed the moment the doors sprang open to reveal a dark tiled hallway with a grey carpet runner. The tiles gleamed where the light hit them, light also bounced from the bronze sculptures against the walls. There were a number of paintings also breaking up the dark grey walls. Very different from the starkness of the basement of this tower. Lania led them to a set of black double doors and Helen focused on her breathing to calm her nerves. It seemed that Lania was just as nervous as she took several deep breaths before pushing the door open.

The doors opened into a large space. The far wall was comprised entirely of glass, showcasing the Praxis skyline in all its glory. It reflected off the polished dark floor tiles making them look lighter than they were. Several dark pillars broke up the otherwise empty space, holding the roof up. They were lightly carved, rather than the rough hewn ones they’d seen downstairs. The only furniture immediately visible in the room was a desk and a chair against the window. Xanatos stood in front of the desk. He was dressed in his uniform; black combats, black boots and a black crew-neck t-shirt with five silver pips on the sleeve. He turned when they entered, his expression blank.

“Lania, you didn’t say we were having guests. What brings you back to Praxis? Did your surface war not go well?” Xanatos asked, in a vaguely mocking tone.

“The outbreak has been contained and the Cabal has been dealt with,” Helen told him, after a moment of awkward silence when it became apparent Lania wasn’t going to say anything.

Nikola looked at Lania expectantly and Helen winced. James slowly drifted so that he was standing on John’s other side rather than in front of him. Helen caught his eye, and saw the worry that was there. With Xanatos’ telekinesis they wouldn’t be able to contain him if this turned violent. John couldn’t teleport here because of the lodestone, so there was no way to close the distance. And Lania was just frozen. Then Nikola brushed her shoulder and she took a step forward.

“Xan, I’m worried about you,” Lania admitted. “I know I haven’t been there for you for sixty years and I’m sorry, but I’m here now.”

“And things are better,” Xanatos said coolly. “I should have taken out Tavius years ago. I hesitated because I was afraid. Praxis suffered for years unnecessarily because I didn’t have the courage to do what was necessary. You gave me that push and I thank you for that. I’d grown comfortable in the small acts of rebellion I managed while maintaining my position. I thought that I could do the most good on the inside, when I should have just used the power I had to make it right!”

“Might doesn’t make right,” Lania said shakily. “Murder-”

“Justice!” Xanatos roared.

He took a threatening step towards Lania and out of the corner of her eye Helen saw John tense, and James grabbed his arm to stop him from moving. If any of them intervened it would only escalate matters.

Then Lania let out a sob and clutched at Xanatos’ t-shirt with her fists. “Xan, please,” she pleaded. “This isn’t you. Can’t you feel it? Look into yourself and tell me this feels right. I know you and I know this is wrong.”

For a heart-stopping moment Helen thought that Xanatos was going to react badly. A sneer formed on his face and he raised his hands to push Lania away. But then it was like he deflated, sorrow stole over his expression and he wrapped his arms around his sister in an embrace instead, one hand gently rubbing against her back. Even as Lania’s breath hitched, fighting back tears, her hands started to glow. A minute later she stepped back and Xanatos let her go.

Lania turned to look at them, a smile of deep relief on her face. “It’s not him. There’s something else, it’s hard to explain, I’ve never felt anything like it. Nikola can you…?”

“Nikola I wouldn’t-” James started but Nikola had already moved.

Nikola laid his palm against Xanatos’ chest and electricity crackled. John hissed in sympathy but it was short-lived as a second later Nikola was flying through the air. He collided hard with one of the pillars. Xanatos’ blue eyes blazed with fury. He pulled a blade from his belt and stalked towards Nikola.

“No!” Lania screamed, raising her hands, Xanatos flew backwards, skidding along the tiles until he hit the glass wall.

Grimacing Nikola rolled to his knees and electricity arced from his fingertips again. Helen had almost forgotten he could do that. He must be drawing it from somewhere, probably from the lighting system. It was where his research on wireless electricity had started, when he’d noticed that he could redirect electrical currents. For so long it had just been his party piece, touching lights and turning them on. Usually if he fought it was with his vampire talons but that wasn’t an option here, as Praxis prevented transformations within the city.

The electricity blast hit Xanatos square in the chest but his hand moved and then it was like the electricity was hitting an invisible barrier. Xanatos got to his feet and Lania raised her hands again. A sculpture from the far side of the room flew through the air. Xanatos growled as he knocked it away. Lania backed up and Helen realised her plan. Helen drew her gun and started firing. Xanatos raised his hand and blocked the bullets, and then he blocked the vase Lania threw at him. Nikola moved round the desk and electricity arced again.

This time Xanatos’ back arched, a mute scream and then something tore out of him. Something half intangible, grey and sparking with electricity. Like a dark cloud it loomed menacingly on the ceiling. He fell to the ground.

“Ahhh!” Lania screamed, her hands clasping at her head as she collapsed to the floor.

John darted forward, hooking his hands under her arms, he dragged her back several feet so she at least wasn’t underneath whatever that was. James crouched down next to her.

“What do you sense?” James asked urgently.

“You can’t feel it?” Lania groaned. “The hate, the sheer malevolence, it hungers.”

“Telepath,” Helen whispered.

Perhaps that explained why it had gone for Xanatos and not Nikola in the execution chamber, although she would have thought that Nikola’s proclivity for electricity would have been attractive to it. On the other hand that might have made him harder to control.

Xanatos got to his feet, an expression of absolute determination on his face. He jumped, far higher than any mortal could, his arm reaching up to the shimmering, crackling energy. It flowed down his arm and back into his chest, absorbing into his body. He fell to the floor again, down onto one knee, breathing heavily.

“Before you do that again Tesla, find a way to contain this damn thing,” Xanatos said breathlessly. “If we let it loose it’ll tear Praxis apart. All it wants is death.”

“What the hell was that?” Nikola demanded.

“I would theorise some kind of energy abnormal, parasitic perhaps,” Helen speculated automatically. “As John turns into energy when he teleports, he could have picked it up anywhere. Then when he died it sought a new host.”

Helen felt numb. Ever since John had confessed he felt different she’d been battling her conflicting thoughts about it. Now faced with the very real evidence that he’d been cursed with a homicidal parasite, saying that changed everything was the understatement of the century. Helen didn’t have Lania’s telepathy but she had eyes. The energy abnormal definitely wasn’t peaceful.

“Are you alright? You’re not going to snap and try and kill us are you?” Nikola asked as he moved past Xanatos warily.

Xanatos gave a broken laugh. “Not imminently. I think I can contain it for … make it quick ok?”

“Containing that much energy will be a challenge but nothing compared to my genius.” Nikola smirked. “Lania would you care to assist?”

“I think I should stay with Xan,” Lania said quietly.

Nikola nodded and his gaze shifted. “James?”

“Absolutely,” James agreed. He offered Lania his hand, helping her up. He glanced at Helen and then at John. “We’ll all help. Many hands, light work.”

“Too many cooks in the kitchen,” Nikola retorted. “Oh very well. Xanatos are the labs still where they were sixty years ago?”

“I’ll show you,” Xanatos said, his tone gravelly.

He pushed past them to the double doors, which were still open from when they’d entered, and had that only been just a few minutes ago? That barely felt possible. Helen was grateful though, both for the challenge and to James for volunteering them all. Although if anyone knew how she felt right now it would be James, his emotions were no doubt very similar. She needed a distraction while she processed the momentous events of the day. Maybe later she’d be able to think about what this meant without running a hundred miles in the opposite direction. They filed out after Xanatos, and as they were walking down the corridor, something occurred to her.

“Lania, if Praxis was once a sanctuary for abnormals. Do you have a database of them?” Helen asked.

“Of course,” Lania replied quizzically. “Oh! You think that maybe this energy creature is in the database?”

“It’s not something I’ve come across before and it would be good to know more about it,” Helen said, proud of how even she kept her voice.

She glanced over at John. He met her eyes and reached out, his hand brushed hers. His expression was one of understanding. A few days ago, after James had said he still loved her, Helen had thought to herself that once the Cabal was dealt with she had a decision to make. That decision had just got a lot more complicated. A very long conversation was in their future. Did two reunite, or did three lost souls find their way back to one another? Just this morning that would have been unthinkable but now?

Helen took a deep breath. Now they had to solve a containment problem for a malevolent energy abnormal. Give her subconscious time to stop reeling. They’d finally found the truth after a hundred and twenty years. They’d all need more than a few hours to deal with that.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I take the line _"It would have killed a lot more if it weren't for you. You kept it at bay."_ and run with it. So much of this fic actually was influenced by Haunted. I really consider that a key episode. Anyway, we're now at the end of this journey. If I anyone is reading this, then I really hope you enjoyed this fic half as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

It had been a day and a half since the world had changed, shifting on its axis into a new reality. Evening had fallen again on the Sanctuary in Old City and Helen was in her office. She was sitting behind her desk, paperwork strewn in front of her, the natural consequences from the Cabal business, but she hadn’t touched it in hours. Her mind was on far more personal matters.

They’d spent most of yesterday in Praxis, building the containment box for the energy abnormal. It had been completed by early evening and Nikola had shocked the parasite out of Captain Xanatos, thus ending it’s reign of death. And it had certainly had one of those.

The Praxian database of abnormals was fascinating. It would take months to go through it all, comparing it to the Sanctuary database, and investigating any potential species links or duplication. Lania had been kind enough to offer them a copy but hadn’t been able to provide one as Praxis computers and their own weren’t immediately compatible. They didn’t exactly have a USB port in Praxis to download data to a removable drive. When they’d returned to the Sanctuary Helen had put Henry on the problem. However, all Helen had been interested in yesterday was this energy abnormal and it hadn’t taken her long to find it.

Whomever had discovered it had named it the Dyere and it was the source of the legend of the Beserkers from Viking times. Warriors would purposefully take the abnormal into themselves to gain it’s rage and bloodlust. It would help sustain them, allow them to slaughter many more enemies in battle before being finally cut down. Helen hadn’t been certain whether the Dyere had more control over those men as they had given themselves over to it, or whether it was because their interests had been aligned but the reports suggested the Dyere burned through it’s hosts quickly. If the warrior survived the battle they were slain by their own side, as they were monsters, unable to stop the bloodlust. They would just kill anyone that crossed their path.

There were only a couple of anecdotes which suggested anyone had ever tried to control it. Even then their survival had only been measured in weeks as they couldn’t contain the rage. Helen didn’t know whether John had perhaps had more control due to the way the Dyere had likely bonded with him, during the energy of a teleportation, or if it was the source blood that had granted him strength, or maybe just his own tremendous strength of will. She’d told him _‘nobody becomes what you are without a predilection for killing’_ but John had never been a killer before the Dyere. It hadn’t been in his nature and maybe that had helped with the control.

They’d likely never know for certain but what had been crystal clear was that the parasite had been the driving force behind the bloodlust. John hadn’t been the Ripper, the parasite he’d been cursed with had been. He should have killed a lot more than he had and that meant something.

The problem was, Helen didn’t know what it meant for her and James.

After they’d dealt with the Dyere, containing it so it couldn’t hurt anyone else, they’d gone back to the waterfall cavern and John had teleported them back to the Sanctuary. Once there they’d all gone their separate ways, needing time and space to process what had happened. Helen hadn’t seen John, James or even Nikola today; she could find them if she wanted to but the sanctuary was a big place and allowed them their own retreats.

She felt as if she was going mad with everything spinning in her mind. What she knew and what she felt weren’t connecting very well - but then they never had. For a hundred and twenty years she’d believed John was an insane serial killer and had still loved him, that hadn’t been compatible either. Learning the truth, that he hadn’t been in control of himself, couldn’t erase a hundred and twenty years of belief overnight. It was all very mixed up and she didn’t know what to do.

And then there was James.

When he’d said he still loved her, she’d mentally put off making the decision about whether they should get back together, until after the Cabal had been dealt with. However, that hadn’t really been true. She had made the decision, she was just scared of taking the leap. She wanted James back. She too was tired of being alone. True she had Ashley, but Ashley was her daughter; she had Will but he was a colleague and a subordinate. James was a partner, an equal, her best friend and she had missed him.

But everything was more complicated now. She wanted to be with James but what about John?

It was almost backwards. Originally she had been with John first; he had proposed in the May of 1887. That had been before the source blood, before they’d been changed. John had survived scarlet fever as a child, and she thought that had probably been the cause of his recurring health problems. He had seen many doctors but she was the first who had managed to help him.

They’d been courting for months before he’d taken ill, and he’d been utterly amazed when she’d managed to treat him. Helen could still remember his proposal. He’d said she’d done so much for him, called her his savior and promised to try and make her happy _‘for all eternity’_. She’d accepted of course but had worried that he’d proposed out of gratefulness and not out of love. The exasperated look in his eye when she’d told him that had reassured her just as much as his words.

Apparently he’d practiced what to say, when he proposed, for weeks beforehand but when he’d been looking at her in that carriage, the ring in his hand, his mind had gone blank and he’d not properly expressed himself. He was grateful, and he’d wanted her to know how much he appreciated her work, respected her as a doctor, as he’d remembered her insecurities about being ‘conventional’ and it had all got a bit mixed up and garbled in translation. But the proposal had definitely been made out of love.

Helen sighed and rubbed at her forehead. James was an excellent poker player but she’d caught his face the second he’d spotted her ring. James hid his pain well but she could see his loneliness and his forced distance. They were all friends and she’d wondered at the time if that made it worse. James had to see John everyday, see him happy with someone else when he obviously still loved him. It had been that which had eventually made her broach the subject with John.

That summer had changed many things, that had been when she’d given an abnormal sanctuary, as her father was away on a trip, and they’d traded for her help with the vial of source blood. She’d protested that wasn’t necessary but they hadn’t taken no for an answer, saying it was a perfect gift for a scientist and she’d been intrigued. But that had been a few weeks later. When she’d spoken to John about James, the source blood, and this future it had given them, had been completely unknown.

*****

_~ Flashback ~  
_ _Oxford, July, 1887_

Now John was her fiancé it wasn’t quite as scandalous for them to be alone together. Helen watched John as he poured them both a drink. Her father was away, the staff had retired for the evening, and the two of them were together in the front room. She was sitting comfortably on the settee as she waited for John to join her. The heat of the day was still quite oppressive and John had already shed his jacket and cravat, opening the top three buttons of his shirt, revealing a tantalising stretch of skin.

Their usual practice on evenings like these was to enjoy a drink, talk about anything and everything, and kiss frequently. Twice now she’d throw caution to the wind, taken his hand and led him to her bedchamber. As she watched John glanced over at her, a warm smile on his face, and she felt a surge of desire. It was a risk, and while she’d very much like to take that risk tonight, and for them to retire to her quarters, her mind was filled with the memory of the conversation they’d had in this very room a few months ago.

They needed to talk about James.

“John, I need to speak with you about something,” Helen said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Oh?” John moved over to sit next to her, placing their glasses on the nearby side table. He took one of her hands in between his, giving her his full attention.

“It’s about James,” Helen added with a trace of hesitation.

She saw John frown slightly. She’d been thinking about this for days, weeks really, ever since they’d announced their engagement. However, she’d never quite managed to work out how to put voice to the maelstrom of thoughts in her mind. She’d hoped that if she just started talking, then the words would come.

“Why did you stop seeing each other?” Helen asked suddenly, surprising herself with the question. Instinct indeed.

“You and I started courting,” John replied uneasily. “James took a step back, it was the proper thing to do. Why do you ask?”

Helen rubbed her fingers against his hand reassuringly. “Do you still have feelings for him? Do you think he still has feelings for you?” John opened his mouth, she could see the panic in his eyes and she raised her free hand. “Please John don’t misunderstand my meaning. I’m trying to understand why the two of you are no longer together.”

“Because you and I started courting,” John repeated, a hint of panic in his tone. “James and I, our relationship, it didn’t mean anything. We were young, experimenting, it didn’t mean anything.” John looked over at the empty fireplace. “Or at least that’s what James said,” he added quietly.

Gently Helen cupped John’s face. He managed a tremulous smile for her but she could see the lingering hurt in his eyes. Society expected men to marry, to have children to carry on their family name, and relationships between men were illegal. There had been a few scandals and the story had always been about reckless experimentation, men so virile they had been driven temporarily to deviancy. There was never any talk of true feelings, but between John and James there had obviously been deep feelings.

As a relative outsider she could see very clearly what must have happened. John had decided to court her, James had tried to make it easier by using the standard lie society would expect, and John had probably echoed that same lie. They’d both then been hurt wondering if maybe the other hadn’t cared for them, as they’d cared for him. It was a tragic mess but fortunately one that could still be saved.

“I asked you because I can clearly see that James still loves you,” Helen told him. John shook his head in mute denial. “Yes.” Helen nodded. “He does and you love him too.”

“I love you,” John said firmly, raising her hand to his mouth, he kissed it gently.

“I know my darling and I love you too.” Helen leant forward and brushed her lips against his briefly, backing up her words with action. “We’re going to be married. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that you and James can … continue. You have to share me with my work, I can share you with our best friend.”

John gaped at her and she felt a blush rising to her cheeks. It was scandalous but John and James had always been discreet before, and their marriage would only help in that regard. Love wasn’t possessive, love was about wanting the person you loved to be happy. John might be perfectly happy with just her but James was alone, and it didn’t have to be that way. James was a dear friend, it might be a little unusual but then she’d never been one for convention. Nobody but them had to know. Why couldn’t they all be happy?

“Helen, are you serious?” John whispered.

“Have you ever known me to say something I don’t mean?” Helen arched an eyebrow.

“Oh my darling.” John embraced her and then his lips were on hers, kissing her with a fervour she’d only experienced after they’d retired to her room. It was as if he was trying to express his feelings through the kiss and it was overwhelming.

Reluctantly Helen pushed at his shoulders and John drew back. His lips were red from the kiss and she longed to lean forward and kiss again, and they would, but not here. She got to her feet and held out her hand. John took it, his eyes smouldering with desire. Ignoring their drinks she led him from the room in the direction of the stairs. She had need of her fiancé tonight.

_~ End Flashback ~_

*****

A soft smile crossed Helen’s face at the memory. John must have spoken to James at the first available opportunity he’d had, as James had come to call on her early the following evening. Maud had been all in a tizzy about the gentleman caller, she’d had to reassure her that James was a friend and fellow scholar from Oxford, and that John was well aware of their acquaintance. Dear James, he’d been so earnest as he’d blushed to the tips of his ears, wanting to know whether the offer was genuinely hers. James had stammered saying that he didn’t think John would mislead him but he would never dream of disrespecting her.

She’d confirmed that the suggestion had been entirely her own and James’ relief and gratitude had been palpable. He’d always been a perfect gentleman up until that point but he’d been so overcome he’d embraced her. Sometimes Helen wondered if that had been the moment things changed between them, opening up the possibility for them to consider each other more than friends. Outside of John she’d certainly never been that close to a man she wasn’t related to; James’ solid warmth pressed against her had been a surprise but far from unpleasant.

Startled Helen’s head snapped up, her gaze shooting over to the left doorway. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts the gentle tap had been momentarily alarming. It was James. She smiled at him as her heart calmed and stood up from behind the desk. She was glad he’d come to find her because if he hadn’t, she would have sought him out. He came further into the office and she met him, taking his hand, she brought him to sit with her on the sofa. They needed to talk.

*****

Helen’s hand in his was wonderfully reassuring. For the past twenty-four hours James had been roving the sanctuary, avoiding everyone, in the desperate hope of bringing order to his troubled mind. Learning of John’s apparent condition, cursed to be that homicidal maniac, was enough to make his knees weak with relief. Some of that was no doubt ego. He hadn’t seen what John had become because it had never been _John_. He’d probably missed the signs that something was wrong with John, but he hadn’t missed signs that led to murder.

The question was what did they do with that knowledge? They couldn’t pretend the last hundred and twenty years hadn’t happened. Where did they go from here?

“I thought about what you said,” Helen began. James arched an eyebrow, he’d said a lot of things, but only one really mattered for the future. “Declan will make a good head of house.”

A warm smile slowly spread across James’ face. He wasn’t sure who moved first but then his lips were against Helen’s for the first time in decades. A minute later he regretfully separated, resting his forehead against hers. They were so close he could feel her breath mingling with his and his eyes slipped closed as he revelled in the feeling. God he had missed her.

Helen sat back. “I was just remembering when you came to see me, July of 1887. I’d spoken to John the evening before, saying that the two of you should reunite.”

James chuckled softly. “I believe the most apt word would be poleaxed. My mind just stopped. I had to be sure.”

“Was that the moment that made you think we could be more than friends?” Helen asked.

“I don’t think so,” James said slowly.

They’d talked about this before, back in 1887, when they’d decided to try as a trio rather than as two couples. The reminiscing had a purpose though because they were circling around the issue that they weren’t ready to confront. Last week he’d decided that he wanted to be with Helen again, if she’d have him, and Helen had just decided that she did want that. Whatever the future held, they would face it together, and right now they were on a precipice. They had another decision to make.

“It developed over time,” James continued. “I would have never dreamed of saying anything, so it’s a good job John pressed me on it.”

*****

_~ Flashback ~  
_ _Oxford, October, 1887_

James reclined on the bed in his room in digs, feeling a pleasant lassitude. It had been a long week and now it was friday night. Nigel and Nikola had opted to go out, he’d cried fatigue which wasn’t completely untrue, and John had mumbled about having plans. No doubt the lads thought John was seeing Helen but actually he wasn’t going anywhere.

The curtains were tightly closed against the evening gloom, the flickering lantern on the desk providing a cosy illumination. James had already shed his jacket and shirt, it wasn’t really warm enough to be lounging around shirtless, but he was waiting for John to come over and warm him up. John was taking his time with it, a crooked smile on his face as he lingered over each button on his shirt.

Finally the white linen shirt came off and John draped it over the back of the chair, along with his jacket. The glow from the lantern looked wonderful against John’s pale skin. James reached for him and John crawled onto the bed, pressing tight against him so they both fit on the narrow mattress. These single beds were deliberately not designed for company. James’ head bobbed as his lips sought John’s, but John kept ducking back, a teasing glint in his eye. James growled and John gave a low chuckle.

“Patience old boy, I wanted to ask you about something first,” John said but his actions belied his words, as he planted several lingering kisses along James’ shoulder and up his neck.

James shivered. “What do you want to know?”

“Helen,” John murmured. “How do you feel about her?”

“How do you mean?” James said diffidently, his mouth drying.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Why would John ask that? What had made him ask that? Surely John didn’t suspect…? James swallowed. He’d only been thinking of Helen in the privacy of his own mind. A man couldn’t be condemned for his thoughts surely. He knew that it was wrong. Helen had already granted him a miraculous boon in allowing John’s relationship with him. Especially given that, to think of her as he had been, was incredibly selfish. Helen was John’s, he would never dispute that.

“You’re not the only keen observer,” John remarked, his hand drifting teasingly over James’ ribs, but James barely felt it in his panic. “You’ve been looking at her.”

James tensed, like a bucket of ice cold water had just fallen down his spine. “Has she complained to you?” he whispered breathlessly.

“No,” John said firmly, his brow furrowed. “My apologies James I didn’t mean to worry you. I just wanted to be certain I was right before I approached Helen.”

“Approached Helen?” James repeated.

He shifted, lifting himself up with his elbows, he scooted back so he was sitting up more. He hoped John would follow, though there really wasn’t room. Instead John twisted so that he was sitting up, back against the side wall. Their legs were still tangled together but James missed his warmth against his side. This really was a conversation they should have had with shirts on, but then there was a certain intimacy to their current attire or lack thereof, and this was an intimate conversation.

“She’s been sneaking glances herself, or at least it appears that way.” John shrugged. “Do you have an interest in her James? Because if you do, and she has an interest in you, then...”

James squeezed his eyes shut. John couldn’t be suggesting what it sounded like he was suggesting. At the moment John split his time between them. Yes, James had started to think of Helen in a romantic fashion. She’d been a good friend for over a year, he’d always had eyes and seen her beauty but that was secondary to her inner strength, her brilliance and her wit.

When she’d allowed John to be with him he’d felt such a rush of warmth at her caring. Ever since then he had somehow become attuned to her, as aware of her presence as he was John’s. They’d been spending more and more time together, as they studied the source blood, and the more time they were together the deeper he fell in love. Helen was a rare and wonderful person. But condoning and ignoring his deviance with John, was not the same as wanting to be a part of it.

“James.” John lightly touched his arm, his concern clear in his voice.

James opened his eyes. “Helen is … you can’t possibly believe she’d want to be with the both of us?”

“When has Helen ever been conventional?” John parried. “And I don’t know how the … practicalities would work out, but if we love her and she loves us both. Why not?”

_Why not?_ James rolled the words around in his head. Just broaching the subject with Helen was scandalous, but then so was everything about this. John had always been the brave one when it came to their relationship. John had kissed him first, John had told Helen about them, John had just confronted him about his feelings for Helen, and now John was going to ask Helen about her feelings.

He didn’t dare hope that Helen actually reciprocated but given everything else between them, James hoped that she would be kind with her rejection. The last thing they needed was for it to get awkward between them. That was what he feared the most.

“Come here,” John murmured.

They shifted so they were laying down again and John started to kiss him ardently. James responded, attempting to pour his feelings into the kiss. His hand tangled in John’s ponytail as he held him close, attempting to get closer still, wanting to feel every inch of him pressed against him. It tasted like the times they’d had just before John and Helen started to court, and James really hoped this wasn’t the end.

_~ End Flashback ~_

*****

“You thought it might be the end?” Helen raised an eyebrow, a smile threatening her lips.

James shrugged. In hindsight that was ridiculous but at the time it had felt logical. Helen and John were to be wed, at any time Helen could end what was between him and John with a word, both men would have respected that. If he’d made her uncomfortable, and it became too awkward, he could have lost her friendship and John’s love. He should have trusted more in how much they deeply cared about one another as friends - they had been friends first and falling in love hadn’t changed that.

“It really wasn’t that big a leap,” Helen continued, having evidently followed his train of thought. “We just fit together.”

His eyes met Helen’s and he saw the question in them. They were circling around the issue of what to do about John, and as John wasn’t here it seemed it fell on him to be brave this time.

“I still love John, I always have and I always will. I think you are the same,” James stated.

“But it’s not about love,” Helen finished quietly.

James bowed his head. Those were the exact words she’d said to him, right here in this office last week, when he’d said he still loved her. It had never been a lack of love that was the problem.

“It’s about trust,” James agreed. He sighed and squeezed her hand, drawing on her strength. “John was cursed but it was still him.”

“A hundred and twenty years,” Helen whispered. “That pain doesn’t go away overnight.”

Which led them straight back to the problem of what to do about it. John was their missing piece, they loved him and always had, there was no decision to be made about that. But just because they loved him didn’t mean that they could, or indeed should, be with him. After everything that had happened, they needed to rebuild trust, and they really shouldn’t rush into anything.

James reached for his radio. “John, can you come to Helen’s office please.” He clicked off transmit and shrugged. “I thought he might have an idea.”

A second later a floorboard in the hallway creaked and then John appeared in the doorway. He must have teleported to have arrived so fast. James saw John’s gaze fall on where he and Helen were still holding hands, a sad but satisfied smile flickered on his face. John moved to sit in the armchair opposite them, the one James had taken on their last two conversations. John was just in shirtsleeves again, a crimson polo-neck this time, and James wondered if he’d retired the long leather coat for good as a remnant of his possession.

“John, we’ve been talking,” Helen started. She glanced at James and he nodded reassuringly at her. “Obviously this is a complicated situation. We can’t pretend the past century didn’t happen.”

John’s mouth twisted, the agony clear in his eyes. James’ heart ached for him. If they could turn back the clock, return to 1888 and get that damn parasite out of him before any of this happened, on the surface that would be the perfect solution. However, they’d all lived those hundred and twenty years, and for better or worse those years had shaped them all. They weren’t the same people anymore, and that was ok. James hadn’t fallen in love with a specific version of Helen and John - he’d fallen in love with Helen and John. Despite everything James wouldn’t trade who they were now, or the potential future they could still have together.

“We’re all haunted Helen,” James murmured, because the weight of the last century was indeed heavy on all of them.

“Time travel isn’t possible anyway,” John said drily. “And even if it was, I still wouldn’t do it. Not now I’m free of that darkness. It had a way of twisting things. I could apologise to you both everyday for the rest of my life and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“We don’t want your apologies John,” Helen said kindly. “We want a way to move forward. We both still love you but...”

John nodded in understanding, his eyes gaining a telltale shimmer as he fought back tears. James could only imagine how overwhelming this was for him. It was probably hard to believe that after everything they still loved him, probably even harder to believe that they’d never stopped.

“We were friends before everything else,” John suggested hoarsely. “I’d like to stay close if that’s alright. I completely understand if Ashley wants nothing to do with me, given our tumultuous meetings up until now, but…” He broke off, giving his head a shake, his hand gripping the arm of the chair to ground himself. “And maybe I could be of use to the sanctuary network.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” James remarked. “Helen?”

Helen nodded. “I agree. It’s a good start.”

“It is more than enough,” John murmured.

James could hear what he didn’t say but probably thought, which was ‘more than I deserve’ and James’ heart ached for him anew. John’s lips twitched and James’ heart leapt, seeing the ghost of the teasing glint John often had in private return for just a moment.

“But you know, there’s no barrier between the two of you,” John pointed out wryly. “Although I hope from the joined hands you’ve decided not to waste the 21st century, as you did the 20th.”

“We agreed that Declan will make a fine head of house in London,” James confirmed, feeling his heart swell with joy at the thought. Nothing was easy yet, and maybe never would be, but he had them back. He had them both back and he was happy.

John rose to his feet, a beat later Helen did the same and then she had her arms round him. James stood and slipped an arm round them both. He could feel John’s shoulders shaking. It wasn’t forgiveness because that was impossible. John had been cursed, his actions hadn’t been his own. Forgiveness under those circumstances just didn’t work. What they could do was attempt to move past it. John’s plan gave them what they needed - time, because trust takes time and only time could really mend their broken bonds.

*****

_Eight Months Later…_

Helen hummed happily as she moved around her office. Old City Sanctuary was large, and there were a couple of sitting rooms, but they still tended to spend the evenings in her office. She could understand why. Unless there was an emergency, nobody tended to drop into her office. Plus, while her office had the computers it didn’t have a television; and the bookcases, fireplace, and the general architecture was a reminder of home. Helen wouldn’t trade the convenience of the 21st century, but she couldn’t deny that she found the trappings of the 19th comforting.

Also her office had the benefit of privacy as the sitting rooms were open to everyone. Will, Kate, Henry and Ashley had regular movie nights. Her old friend mediated whenever there was an argument about what film to watch. Helen was beyond grateful that even though it took two months, eventually he had agreed to take the cure. She really couldn’t imagine this place without him.

They’d fallen into a comfortable routine. There was no pattern to it but they’d trade off. A couple of nights a week it was all three of them, other times it was just James and John with tumblers of whiskey and their battle of wits, other times it was just her and James, or her and John. They would talk of times past, of things they’d seen and done over the years and of the memories they shared of Oxford. Sometimes they would sit in silence. Just last week Helen had curled up next to John and read several chapters of a truly awful book Jia from the Hong Kong Sanctuary had recommended. She’d done the same with James on another occasion as they’d worked on a crossword puzzle together.

She’d used to spend her evenings doing Sanctuary paperwork but now James was living here, she’d gleefully offloaded a good half of it onto him. He’d groaned and pretended to grouse at having hoped to be free of it now he wasn’t a head of a house anymore, but she knew that he was more than happy with the arrangement and it wasn’t all paperwork. This was the sanctuary, there was the usual twice-a-week crisis to keep them on their toes.

The past eight months had been good for all of them. Not always happy but overall positive. John had struggled with the guilt, and Ashley was only just starting to thaw towards him; it was sometimes a case of two steps forward, one step back, but that still meant there was progress. Time was a great healer after all.

Nikola had mostly split his time between here and Praxis. Helen was glad he hadn’t just disappeared again. Although she was a tiny bit concerned about what he was inventing, he was gleeful about getting his hands on the Praxis tech. He’d had to leave in 1946 before he’d investigated a fraction of it and now Lania was letting him have full access.

Praxis itself was doing better, having returned to democracy. The newly elected High Councilor Ranna was stand-offish, full of Praxian disdain and suspicion of surface-dwellers, but Ranna was willing to work with the sanctuary network in a limited way. The sanctuary had always had abnormals they’d struggled to house and Hollow Earth offered a new secure alternative, a refuge of last resort.

Mostly though Helen dealt with Lania, and she was grateful that Ranna allowed them that backdoor. They’d discovered relatively quickly after the tumultuous events with the Cabal precisely why Helen’s blood hadn’t granted James longevity. It had never been her blood which had granted John his longevity, he’d been sustained by the Dyere. Lania had given John the same Praxis longevity they’d given James, so they both had potentially another sixty years. It was a lifetime, just not the _‘for all eternity’_ that they’d like.

Although for all eternity wasn’t perhaps as out of reach as they’d once thought. Lania had been researching the Praxis longevity treatment, and Helen had given her several samples of blood. Nikola hadn’t spoken much about it, but Helen was reasonably certain he was working on it as well. Six of the seven who had taken the source blood, eight if you counted Tavius which Helen didn’t, were still alive. Only two of them potentially had forever and forever was a long time. When Helen had decided to have Ashley, she knew that one day unless something took her first, that she would have to bury her daughter. Eternal youth meant living with loss.

Even if Lania’s research worked, and they did find a way to unlock forever, Helen wouldn’t condemn Ashley to that life. What she wanted for Ashley was for her to live a long, natural life and to be happy. She wanted Ashley to have a full good life, and longer held no guarantee of better. She wouldn’t burden Ashley with the same choice she’d had to make, deciding whether or not to have children because you’d know one day you might outlive them. People weren’t supposed to live forever but Helen guessed that’s what happens when playing with forces they didn’t understand. The source blood had given them many gifts and they also had to live with the consequences. If Lania could find a way so that John and James could stay with her then that would be enough.

Thinking of John and James must have summoned them. They both appeared, bantering already and Helen smiled, feeling like her heart might burst. She’d never thought she could be this happy again. It had been a little awkward at first between her and James, which they should have expected but hadn’t. The last time they’d slept in the same room had been during the war, and there had been nothing romantic about that. In real terms it had been over a century and as they’d undressed there had been a real awareness that John was there, but not there. However, they both knew that taking it slow was the right thing to do and it had made the bonds between all three of them much stronger.

Last night Helen had spoken to James and they’d agreed that tonight would be the night. For the last eight months they’d essentially been courting, with the understanding that when they were ready they would take John by the hand and invite him back to their bed and fully back into their lives. Trust takes time but it had been eight months, they were finally ready.

It was time.


End file.
